Compelled to Play with Destiny
by Hotpoint
Summary: Third Story in the Compelled Series: As the Pylean war rages things aren't exactly peaceful back on Earth either - AU Series - COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

_**Important note from the author:**_

_This is the third story in the Compelled Series, reading parts one and two first will save you a great deal of confusion as to what's going on. Also this story will be appearing both here and on the Twisting the Hellmouth website in case you prefer the format there._

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Castle of the Covenant – Pylea – January 2004**

The second from last thing that went through the guards mind as he looked over the battlements into the night sky was that it looked like it was going to rain the reflected light from Pylea's moon shining dimly through the thick cloud, the _very last_ thing that went through his mind however was a nine-millimetre bullet from a silenced pistol pressed against the back of his bucket-shaped iron helmet.

The Pylean guard, one of those loyal to Narwek and his puppet government, slumped to the floor, killed instantly by the shot which made a metallic "thunk" sound as it punched through the iron. The local demon clans might have their heart in their backside but their brains were ensconced firmly in their skulls as per most humanoid species.

Wesley lowered his pistol and signalled to the three slayers accompanying him to follow him towards the stone steps down into the castle itself. Like him they were wearing jet-black fatigues, tactical vests and balaclavas plus night-vision goggles which showed the world in shades of green, unlike him they had never been here previously and the plans of the building they had seen were no substitute for actually having done this before, which is why he went first despite having a fraction of their strength and slower reflexes.

Getting into the castle should have been much harder than this, especially since they hadn't even carried out a diversion in order to get a team in close enough to scale the walls, but both the occupation forces and their local allies had clearly relied too much on mystical protection and not enough on actual guards. Spells and wards designed to warn of an attacker were firmly in place but they weren't worth the demonic languages they were cast in, the black uniforms the infiltration team wore were merely the tip of the iceberg in making them hard to detect, the real work was being done by the glyphs they had painted on their bodies underneath. Early trials had shown the symbols they had learned from Lindsey MacDonald to be so effective at jamming both mystical and electronic surveillance that they even prevented them seeing each other through the night-vision gear so Willow had to tweak the magic slightly so they could.

Approaching the castle they did have to skirt around the newly constructed barracks buildings situated a quarter-mile to the north-east, which were home to perhaps half a legion of occupation troops, but being able to see in the dark had made avoiding the patchy patrols and disinterested demon guards scattered around far from tricky. Similar barracks were being set up in several locations as Sebassis strengthened his hold over the world, the demonic legions based there were the embodiment of his power, the symbol of his sovereignty over both Pylea itself and its puppet government. Through both Sebassis troops, and the newly re-empowered clergy that formed the backbone of the Covenant, Pylea was becoming once again a stronghold of power for the Wolf, Ram and Hart, or at least it would have been if the Slayers hadn't decided it was time to prove their supernatural-superpower credentials by getting into the business of power-projection.

The inside of the castle was lit by flaming torches so they turned off the goggles and lifted them up onto their foreheads as they silently made their way down the spiral stone steps into the living quarters. The next guard they ran into inside, this time one of Sebassis men, was grabbed by a slayer and had his head twisted around one-hundred and eighty degrees before he could make a sound, except that is of both his neck being snapped and subsequently his body dropping to the floor in a heap. The slayer which had killed him dragged him into a dark corner where his corpse wouldn't be immediately spotted by any other passing this way then the group moved on, silenced pistols raised and ready.

Using a hand signal Wesley indicated when they had arrived at their destination, the castle library, and with pistol raised he pushed open the door slowly and looked inside.

A priest sat down by a table, slumped asleep over a book was the only sign of life. Not wanting to risk getting blood on the possibly valuable tome Wesley pulled a length of piano wire out of one of the pockets on his tactical vest, tiptoed up to the priest and gently fed the wire under his neck before taking hold of both ends by their wooden toggles pulling it back hard and garrotting him pulling him backwards off the chair.

The girls watched dispassionately, all were all graduates not only of his firearms training but also the advanced studies course in fighting unbelievably dirty he co-taught with Faith for slayers who were a little more "morally flexible" than most, the kind that could kill in cold blood without hesitation or later reflection and personal reproach. Given a large enough group to choose from you could always find a few such people, and there were plenty of slayers around now to select the ideal candidates for what was euphemistically referred to as "wet work". The wire biting in hard enough to draw blood the priest soon stopped trying to kick out and struggle as he fell into unconsciousness then death. Wesley left it another few seconds for safety then unwound the wire garrotte, coiled it back up and returned it to its pocket.

Wesley looked around, the Castle Library was exactly as be remembered it to be. The three most valuable works, the Trionic tomes with covers representing the Wolf, Ram and Hart were there along with so many others. It was another intelligence goldmine and well worth salvaging before the main event, with luck they wouldn't even realise they were missing.

The slayers took off the empty holdalls they had been carrying strapped to their backs and began stuffing books and manuscripts into them, quickly but quietly while Wesley watched the door. They could carry far more weight than him without being slowed down, and besides which he was a better shot than they were and could instantly drop anyone else that decided to drop by.

Once the books were gathered up they cautiously checked the corridor then seeing it was still clear headed back to the roof. The entire operation had only taken a fifteen minutes start to finish without a word being uttered just as planned, and had in fact gone even more smoothly than expected. One reason Wesley was unaware of for this situation at the time was that both Narwek and the Commander of the Legions on Pylea were off visiting one of the southern provinces which meant security was even more lax than normal.

Putting their night-vision gear back on they returned to the battlements, checked the coast was still clear below and then abseiled back down the walls, immediately started to run as Wesley switched on his radio headset. 'Let the heavens fall' he said sprinting away from the castle like his life depended on it, which it probably did.

Just over half a mile away, positioned with a clear view of the castle gates, Janko Perković looked through the high-powered night-vision scope mounted on his rifle. There were two guards at the gates and if their body language was remotely like that of a human they were bored stiff he decided. Having done much the same job himself on numerous occasions he sympathised as he sighted the rifle on them.

A distant sound, almost like a dull thump carried through the forest, causing the guards to start looking around curiously at the unfamiliar noise. We'll their lives were about to get much more interesting the Croatian Mercenary thought to himself as a strange whistling noise that almost seemed to be coming from above really had the guards looking confused as they stared into the night sky.

A deafening explosion, perhaps seventy-five yards in front of the castle gates, thundered in the darkness, and the sudden burst of light accompanying it lit up the surroundings for a split second. The mercenary spoke into his own radio headset in French correcting the mortars aim as his Canadian colleague situated two miles further distant from the castle adjusted the mortars trajectory in response before firing another aiming shot.

The second round landed only ten yards from the castle walls and rattled the windows in the building.

The third mortar bomb landed right on top of the castle and Perković requested ten rounds of rapid fire just as the townsfolk in the nearby dwellings had poured out of bed to see what was happening up at the castle.

Quite where Emil had managed to get hold of a British Army issue L16 81mm mortar and several crates of ammunition everyone had wisely opted not to ask, he had probably gotten hold of it in Africa via one of the various nations there which had purchased a number of the things, but regardless of its origins the effect it had on the building was more than impressive. Hitting the walls it would have caused a decent amount of damage but the rounds dropping right on top of the roof, which unlike the walls _wasn't_ several feet thick, was simply catastrophic, it simply fell in on top of the next floor.

Loading and firing at a fast but steady rate the high-explosive mortar rounds dropped one after the other every five seconds or so, because of the relatively low muzzle velocity, and the long range it was being fired at, there were another two already in flight as each one exploded.

To the people of Pylea stood by their homes watching the castle get pounded it seemed as if an angry God was throwing thunderbolts at the building. They had never seen such a thing, there was not even gunpowder on this world, and they gaped at the sight and stood in awe at the thunderous sound.

After the ten rounds of high-explosive Perković called for another three rounds of incendiary ammunition which duly fell into the smashed core of the castle and set it ablaze, the surviving demons inside pouring out through the gates, stunned and totally shaken by the situation. Many had already been killed as ceilings and floors collapsed into rubble and most of the rest were completely disorientated by both the relentless concussive booms and the sheer unexpectedness of it all.

Then the mercenary chambered a round in his sniper-rifle and started talking them out one at a time firing into the mob situated eight-hundred metres away. As soon as he started firing the slayer with him, Rika from South-Africa, joined in, the two of them taking it slow and steady, firing one aimed shot after another into the chaos. The girl was if anything a better shot than he was, which had been much to the mercenaries surprise when they were training on a range back home, but she hadn't done this for real before and he had, albeit shooting at humans before not demons, and he was pleased she hadn't hesitated but just gone on with the job. It was said that during the war on the Eastern Front female snipers of the Red Army had been much feared by the Germans for their ruthlessness, watching Rika dispassionately blowing holes in the opposition made Perković believe it.

The troops based in the Legion Barracks were also pouring out of their buildings though in a much better order, Sebassis armies were kept in check by harsh discipline and training as well as their loyalty for the Archduke himself, and they started to form up into their various commands ready for action just as the mortar was realigned and bombs started dropping right on top of them instead, this time it was one Xander Harris that was calling in the barrage, watching from his own concealed position and radioing the fall of shot to Ashton and his mortar crew.

A mixture of high-explosive, proximity-fused airburst shrapnel and white-phosphorus anti-personnel rounds fell onto the barracks buildings and the ground around them, setting timber and canvas ablaze and slaughtering the demons that had never before experienced anything like it. It might not be glamorous but the fact was that by the twentieth century the lethality of artillery had risen to the point that it caused more battlefield casualties than every other kind of weapon put together. Caught out in the open with no trenches to throw themselves in the soldiers of Sebassis Legions were simply butchered by the relentless steady pounding.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity but was in fact only a few minutes, the rounds stopped landing as the mortar ran out of ammunition and with ears ringing from the explosions the demons started to cautiously get up from the ground. Surviving officers started to belt out orders just as another sound, a dull roar that grew louder and louder began to approach their position.

A series of explosions, far smaller than those caused by the mortar rounds though still capable of serious damage rocked the remains of the barracks, exploding amongst the larger intact groups of demons and demolishing any structures that were still intact.

No sooner had the new round of explosions ended than a four wheeled machine appeared out of the night moving swiftly towards them. Angel had once driven a 1967 Plymouth through a portal to Pylea, this time they had come with a 2003 Landover four-wheel drive with the roof taken off and with a pintle-mounted light-machinegun added. Gunn sat in the drivers seat and took pleasure in watching the demons scatter as he tore around the area, running down a few of them. Xander manning the machinegun howled like a fury as he fired long bursts into the night, whilst three slayers, Vi in the passenger seat and two of her most experienced girls in the back, fired off their G-36K carbines. They were all wearing night-vision gear which made the fact they were firing a high percentage of tracer rounds for shock effect look even more surreal, almost like a science fiction film with broken beams of green light tearing through the alien hordes.

Streams of fully-automatic fire scythed through the demon ranks, already a rabble, and some began to flee just as the vehicle suddenly veered off and started heading towards the castle, leaving utter chaos in its wake Hundreds already killed or wounded the remaining demons were shaken to the core, reeling from the ferocity of the assault which was as much psychological as physical.

Then adding to the nightmare a line of figures started advancing from the treeline into the flickering light thrown from the burning barracks buildings. They moved steadily as one, almost mechanically, disciplined and clearly with a purpose.

Taking the centre position in the line Faith chambered a round in her SPAS-12 shotgun with a satisfying "clack clack". 'Leave a few of the wounded alive to tell their friends what happened' she ordered, 'otherwise kill 'em all, we're making a statement here' she told the slayers with her, and the skirmish line of a dozen teenage girls armed with assault shotguns and short-swords, and wearing chain-mail armour in case things got up close and personal, began to clear up what was left of the demon soldiers. They wanted to make a serious impression in their first battle on Pylea and they were certainly achieving that objective so far, they were well armed, relentless, had overwhelming technological superiority and wanted their enemy to know it. Two other slayers followed the line some fifty yards back carrying the six-shot grenade launcher which they had used to bombard the camp shortly before the four-wheel-drive made its entrance. Now with launchers reloaded they would provide firepower support if needed, though it looked unlikely it would be, the demon forces were shattered.

As the slayers wandered about some of the demons tried to fight back but they were gunned down in short order. It was far from the old slayer way of doing things but these weren't the old days and for that matter they weren't even on the same planet. Faith and most of the others had gawped at Pylea's twin suns when they arrived earlier that day, before making the trek from where they'd arrived fifteen miles to the northwest in an uninhabited area of wilderness. It was a pity Buffy hadn't been there to see it but one of them had to remain on Earth to run the show and besides which the Chief-Slayer was, by her own admission, _not_ gun-girl which is what this job really needed.

The four-wheel-drive roared its way towards the castle bumping over the dirt-track leading to it. It pulled up two hundred yards away and Xander started firing again, hosing a stream of fire from his machinegun towards the demons before suddenly stopping. The sniper-fire from Perković and Reka which had been harassing them ceased too moments before flares launched skywards, the brilliant magnesium lights slowly drifting back to earth on tiny parachutes illuminating the whole area.

Another Landover also mounting a machinegun rolled out from the darkness, driving over a ploughed field with ease to reach its destination, a figure jumped from the passenger seat and stood beside it. He lifted a microphone to his lips and started to speak, his words booming from speakers in the back of the vehicle, audible for miles around. 'I am the Groosalug' he began, 'undefeated champion of Pylea and loyal subject of the Princess Cordelia' he declared. 'This land belongs to its people not to an invader from another realm. I have returned to my home to free her from slavery and foreign rule, the Princess has called for aid from her allies and they have responded by dispatching warriors to help to rid us of the tyranny of the Archduke Sebassis and his fawning puppet Narwek' he announced, his words echoing from the castle walls. 'Their weapons are mighty beyond measure, their soldiers strong, skilled and brave, they offer to arm and train all to resist the invader' he continued, 'to our enemies I offer fair warning, you will die by the thousands if you stay, to the true sons and daughters of Pylea, be they of the clans or the humans I give a message, rally to the cause of freedom, throw off the yoke of oppression and join us.'

The Groosalug took a deep breath. 'Liberty for Pylea, death to her foes, and may the Gods restore the Princess to the Throne' he cried out.

A figure scrambled to its knees from it had been sheltering near the castle gates. 'You cannot win' the demon retorted. 'The Archduke will never give up Pylea.'

Xander leaned over to Vi and whispered something to her. She raised her carbine and fired a single shot which hit the demon right between the eyes killing it instantly. It fell backwards and hit the ground like a tree felled by a lumberjack.

'That was _one_ bullet' Xander shouted out to the remaining demons by the castle gates. 'We've got a million more ready and waiting' he told them, 'You'll run out of soldiers a long time before we run out of bullets to kill them with' he declared.

'We'll give you one week to leave and if you're not all gone by then it's no more mister nice guy' Gunn called out. They wouldn't leave, the idea of being forced to retreat by humans was too abhorrent for them to contemplate, but it was only right to give them the option.

The Groosalug got back into his own Landrover and gave a nod to the driver, who put it into gear and headed for the town where he wanted to make a speech directly to the people before they left.

Xander flicked on his radio headset. 'Faith, you nearly done over there?' he asked.

'_Another couple of minutes to mop up and we'll head back to rendezvous_' Faith replied over the sound of intermittent gunfire and demon screams.

'Ashton you hear that?' Xander asked.

'_Already on the way there_' Ashton replied. '_Making good time now we're not hauling half a ton of mortar rounds with us_' he continued. A girls voice could be heard muttering in the background pointing out it wasn't _him_ that had been carrying most of it.

'Janko, stay in place to cover us, Groo will pick you two up as planned' Xander told him.

'_Right_' the mercenary responded. Man of few words Xander thought to himself.

'Wesley?' Xander asked.

'_En-route to rendezvous_' Wesley replied. '_Making bad time now we're hauling half a ton of books with us_'

'_Well stop reading them then_' Faith retorted over the open channel.

Xander pulled his headset off. 'I still think we should have rode in playing music' he told Gunn. 'Coming in out of the darkness, guns blazing, it would have looked awesome.'

'And the locals would have run away screaming or fell to the ground with their hands over their ears' Gunn replied putting the Landrover into gear ready to move off, 'we wanted them to stick around and watch us kick the shit out of these assholes' he reminded him.

Xander sighed. 'Okay but the next dimension we do this in, I definitely want music' he declared. 'Something hard rock with a beat to go with the gunfire, get the blood pumping.'

'The _next_ dimension?' Vi asked as the four-wheel-drive started to move off.

'Oh come on you must have heard Illyria's master plan for galactic, sorry I mean "multiversal", conquest?' Xander asked her as they headed away from the castle.

'I try and tune it out' Vi admitted. 'It makes it harder to like her when she gets all… ambitious and imperialistic.'

'Surprised she's not here' one of the other slayers said looking around, 'explosions, fire, mayhem it's her idea of heaven right?'

'Needed her ready to portal us out if the plan went to shit' Gunn replied. 'She's around somewhere watching and I bet she was pissed she couldn't join in. She had a video camera though so we've got one hell of a home movie to watch when we get back.'

'So what now?' Vi asked.

'We give them a week to think about it like I said and then we go to war' Gunn replied evenly.

'We're not at war _already_?' the slayer who had asked about Illyria inquired.

'Nah' Xander replied, 'this was just an object lesson in not fucking around with people with superior weapons technology' he told her. 'Psychological warfare maybe.'

'We must have killed hundreds, _thousands_ of them' the slayer responded switching the safety catch on her rifle back on.

Xander shrugged. 'Okay so it was a _stern_ object lesson' he admitted. 'Take it from me, demons are slow learners' he told her. 'As for numbers they've got hundreds _of_ thousands' he noted.

'We just bitch-slapped them some' Gunn remarked. 'Kicking their ass is going to take a good long while.'

The castle blazed, the fires visible for miles around casting a glow on the night sky as the slayer forces pulled back from the scene of the battle. Rumours and tales of what had happened spread rapidly, helped by the distribution of leaflets written up in all the major scripts of Pylea and which were scattered by the strange four-wheeled machines that raced along the roadways through towns and villages over the next few days. A new force had come to Pylea, a new power began to exert itself offworld. The ancient nightmare of demonkind was coming to pass, the humans were rewriting the rules of the game, no longer playing on the defensive they were ready and willing to take the war to the enemy wherever that enemy might be.

In another reality Angel was once willing to give his life to stop the gears of the Wolf, Ram and Hart grinding towards eventual, inevitable apocalypse even for just a moment, believing it was impossible to bring them down entirely and that it was the struggle, the fighting back no matter how futile it was that was worthwhile, that was what it meant to be a champion.

Watching the castle burn from a distance Illyria knew that was just a bunch of angsty, emo, loser crap. Total victory _was_ possible, you just needed to stop being such a wimp, make _them_ play by _your_ rules… and whenever possible cheat.

They were rewriting history and prophecy, overturning the established order of things, and beyond that it was a portent of something far greater, the first stirrings of a new doctrine that would eventually shake the multiverse to its foundations, an idea that it was the Manifest Destiny of mankind _not_ to be the pawn but the player.

Illyria switched off the video camera she had been recording the events with for posterity and turned to head for the rendezvous herself. 'Check' she said quietly to herself with a smile.

* * *

_**Note from the author:**_

_This Fic runs on reviews, all other power sources have proved inadequate for the task ;-)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – January 2004**

Entering the dining room Spike spotted Dawn already sat down working her way through a stack of pancakes and headed towards her immediately walking straight into a table impacting it with a hefty thump. 'Oh bloody hell' he swore and walked around the thing, glaring at everyone in the room who had dared to start laughing. This included the large table at the other end of the room which surrounded by slayers who had been on the Pylean mission and who were still talking about it enthusiastically as they ate breakfast.

To her credit Dawn herself wasn't laughing but she _was_ smiling pretty hard as she took another bite of maple syrup covered pancake goodness. Andrew made them really well, just fluffy enough in consistency to be perfect and he always made sure to keep some back for her when she arrived for breakfast even if she was usually late. Spike took a seat next to her and she pushed a mug towards him.

Spike looked at the mug warily. 'Blood?' he asked.

'Pigs blood' Dawn answered after swallowing. 'I gave it a few seconds in the microwave for you, not enough to make it icky' she told him, 'well no more icky than usual' she added. 'Try it.'

Spike frowned, he didn't like drinking blood in front of the knibblet even if she was well used to seeing Angel doing it after living in his place for over half a year. He lifted the mug and daintily took a sip which turned into a decent gulp when the flavour hit his tastebuds. 'Is that otter in there too?' he asked.

Dawn nodded. 'Just a little bit' she told him. 'Illyria mentioned trying it, something about improving the taste?'

'Damn right it does' Spike responded taking another swig, 'bloody ambrosia' he added savouring it, 'almost as good as human without any of the subsequent guilt trips or staking' he explained with a wink. 'Illyria?' he queried.

'I think she likes you, more than Angel anyway because I don't think she ever suggested it to him' Dawn replied.

'If you want my opinion she just likes hitting me' Spike responded. 'Now I'm a real boy again she wants to start sparring like we did before I got ghosted' he told her clearly less than enthused at the idea. 'Even hitting her hurts your bleeding knuckles' he told Dawn, 'let alone what it feels like when she hits _you_' he continued with a grimace. 'And the thing that _really_ grates is that when you're picking yourself off the floor, and it feels like she's knocked half your flaming teeth loose, you know full well she's pulling her punches' he complained. 'It hurts your dignity as much as your jaw.'

'Talking of picking yourself up off the floor I saw from your arrival you're still walking into things then?' Dawn observed with a grin.

Spike sighed. 'Too many months taking the direct path from A to B' he replied sadly. 'Walking around things instead of through them is going to take getting used to again' he continued. 'I walked headfirst into a wall yesterday, a sodding _wall_' he told her. 'Right in front of Angel it was' he told her, keeping his voice down so nobody else could hear, 'rotten bugger laughed for at least five minutes' he added bitterly. 'There's not an ounce of sympathy or compassion in the man.'

'Nope' Dawn agreed, 'just broodiness and a soul that periodically goes AWOL' she added with a smile. 'Have you met our new receptionist yet?' she asked.

'Yeah' Spike replied. 'Made a point of telling me she always carries a stake and a can of mace in her handbag and then tells me I have to start putting in those stupid report forms the slayers fill in if I ever tangle with something' he told her. 'Like _that's_ ever going to bloody happen' he said rolling his eyes. 'What's her name?' he asked. Davina was it?'

'Diana' Dawn corrected him. 'She used to work for Wesley when he ran his own crew the year before last, with all the slayers still arriving and so much going on we needed more help with the paperwork, he said she was good at her job and it's hard to get good administrators who won't freak out when something demony happens.'

'Hair pulled back like that, those glasses and the business suit' Spike observed. 'Wrapped way too tight if you ask me' he said. 'I bet what she really needs is a damn good…' Spike paused remembering who he was with, 'talking to' he said after a beat.

Dawn laughed. 'Speaking of which so have you talked to Buffy yet?' she asked

'Can't think what to say' Spike replied staring into space. 'Not even sure I know what I want to say.'

'Jeez Spike you had since June to think about it' Dawn pointed out.

'I kept putting it off' Spike admitted. 'Anyway I got a bit maudlin and self pitying at the end there.'

Dawn faked astonishment. 'What really?' she asked sardonically, 'but you came over all chipper and not at _all_ whiney about the being incorporeal so long.'

The vampire narrowed his eyes. 'Oi that's enough of that' he told her curtly. 'It's difficult' he continued, his tone of voice softening as he returned to the original subject. 'Buffy's life is just so much more complicated now, she's got all these new people she's responsible for…'

'You are _such_ a wuss' Dawn told him.

Spike pouted for a second then he smirked. 'So have you asked Angel junior out yet?' he asked smugly.

Dawn blushed for a second. 'What?' she asked.

'Oh come on, you were all over him at the New Years Eve party' Spike noted. 'I'd worked my way through half a case of Scotch by then and even I could see it' he told her, 'it was blurry but I could see it.'

Dawn was the one looking uncomfortable now which made Spike feel a lot better. 'I just…' she began. 'I think he's…'

'Dreamy?' Spike asked holding back a chuckle.

'Interesting' Dawn snapped back, 'he's got hidden depths' she told him.

'Just thank God he doesn't take too much after his Dad' Spike told her. 'Personality and looks wise' he continued before putting on a more serious expression. 'If you like him tell him, trust me he'll be flattered, take it from a vampire, you're a tasty nibble knibblet' he told her.

'Why don't you take your own advice then?' Dawn asked smugly.

'Rank cowardice and hypocrisy' Spike answered, 'but at least I'm man enough to admit it' he told her. 'Give me a few weeks to get used to being a proper person again alright? I can't even take myself seriously at the moment what with all the falling over and walking into things.'

'Okay' Dawn agreed, 'but just so you know, the waking up on fire if you hurt my sister thing still stands' she advised with a disturbingly cheery smile.

Spike felt his cheek twitch. 'Why do I keep meeting these unbelievably scary women?' he asked despondently.

**Great Russell Street – London – January 2004**

Roger Wyndham-Pryce checked his watch again and then put his hands behind his back. They were due to arrive any second but he frankly doubted they would, people simply didn't take punctuality seriously these days he thought to himself looking around the room.

The builders and decorators had done a masterful job of repairing and renovating the building he thought. If it wasn't for the empty bookcases still waiting to be replenished you would never know the entire place had been gutted by explosion and the subsequent fire just over a year ago, so many friends and colleagues annihilated in a split second Wyndham-Pryce pondered, the only ones left a few scattered field watchers the Harbingers had never managed to eliminate, who were now busy locating and dispatching newly empowered slayers to Los Angeles, and the Old Guard of retired and semi-retired watchers such as himself who were trying to rebuild the Council in the wake of catastrophe.

Wyndham-Pryce turned to one of his two colleagues also waiting in the buildings largest room and was just opening his mouth to speak when a blinding flash of light stopped him dead in his tracks, a young red-haired woman appearing in the centre of the room. 'Sorry about this' she apologised in an American accent, 'if she hasn't been somewhere before she can't get pinpoint accuracy on the portal' she explained. 'I sometimes play pathfinder' she said before dashing out of the way to the side of the room just as a black whirling vortex appeared at the exact spot the young woman had just been.

An even younger girl with pigtails and wearing what Roger Wyndham-Pryce considered a truly bizarre choice of apparel stepped out of the vortex. 'Hello' she said to the three watchers. 'Nice to be home' she continued in a working class London accent taking a few steps forward and turning back towards the vortex just as another girl stepped through.

'Good Afternoon' she greeted the men with a smile and a French accent that the well travelled Wyndham-Pryce recognised as Parisian before she took up a position near the first teenager to come through. A suitcase then came hurtling through the void, to be caught by the English girl and then passed to the French one to be stacked on the floor as more bags followed in quick succession. Finally a third girl the same age came through carrying a very large wooden crate. 'Illyria's got the other two' she said in a Liverpool accent before gingerly placing the crate on the ground.

A slim women carrying two even larger crates, one on each shoulder balanced and held in place by her hands, stepped out of the portal just before it closed behind her. Two of the girls took the crates off her and put them down as carefully as the first. She looked completely normal except for blue steaks in her hair and the apparent ease with which she handled the awkward heavy boxes.

'Introductions are in order I feel' Roger Wyndham-Pryce announced.

The slender woman who had carried the two crates through looked him up and down. 'I am Illyria, God-King of the Primordium, Shaper of Things' she declared. 'This is the witch Willow Rosenberg and the slayers Molly, Dominique and Natasha' she told him pointing at them in turn. 'Molly is assigned the job of Senior Slayer in the European Theatre of Operations, you and the other watchers here will accord her the respect due her status or she will have you demoted' she told the trio of old men.

Molly's jaw dropped. 'Oh no' she blurted out. 'I like wouldn't… I mean…'

'You are a leader, you have faced death and led others in battle' Illyria interrupted. 'Act like it' she told Molly sternly. 'These men are here as your advisors not as your superiors' she told her, 'do not let them get the idea you are a tool for their use, the reverse is true, they are merely part of a support infrastructure for you and the warriors at your command.'

'Ah yes hello' Willow interrupted in an attempt to defuse the situation, Roger Wyndham-Pryce was starting to look quite enraged enough already at the lack of civility and tact of this interloper. 'I'm Willow Rosenberg like Illyria said, and it's nice to be back in England again even if I'm not staying long' she said brightly putting on her most winning smile.

One of the other aging watchers looked her up and down. 'Aren't you the young lass who tried to destroy the world?' he asked. He wouldn't have usually been so rude himself but Illyria had set the tone.

Willow blinked. 'Just the once and I'm all over that now' she replied.

'Glad to hear it' the watcher replied wryly.

'The other girls are flying over' Molly told them. 'We just wanted to get a team in place quickly because we're already running behind schedule for setting up the European office and some of the things we've bought with us… wouldn't be too popular with airport security.'

'Firearms presumably' Roger Wyndham-Pryce queried. 'I had quite a selection pointed at me during my recent visit to Los Angeles to see my son.'

'Assault rifles, shotguns, pistols and a few grenades' Molly told him. 'Plus some melee weapons, swords and knives mainly' she added, 'most of the heavy weapons are assigned to the Pylean Campaign but we'll get some shipped in eventually once our supplier gets hold of them.'

'The Pylean Campaign? Is that what you're calling it?' Wyndham-Pryce asked. 'The entire idea sounded quite ludicrous when I was informed about it by Rupert Giles, a poorly envisioned leap into the unknown that will soak up Council resources indefinitely, far better to deploy what we have to protect people here if you ask me.'

'Fortunately for the future of your species nobody _did_ either request or accept your counsel on the matter' Illyria retorted. 'A war cannot be won by defensive measures alone, the Wolf, Ram and Hart are by your standards eternal, they need to be defeated in all realms where they reside or else even if they were completely vanquished on this world they could merely return a few centuries later, when there might no longer be the knowledge to fight them effectively' she stated. 'You are small and you think small' she told him. 'Your mate must possess truly exceptional genes because your own contribution to your sons genetic makeup must surely have taken considerable compensating for.'

'Illyria!' Willow exclaimed.

'How dare you' Roger Wyndham-Pryce practical spat at Illyria, 'to think my own son would associate with such a creature… it's beyond comprehension.'

The God-King smirked. 'How does the fact he associates with _this_ fit into your world view' she asked morphing from her human "Ria" persona into her armoured form, the blue patches forming on her skin to match her hair and her eyes becoming glacial. Willow and the slayers barely registered the change, they'd seen it too many times, but even though they knew what she was the trio of watchers almost stepped back in shock. It was one thing knowing intellectually, seeing the truth with your own eyes was far more visceral. 'You quail before me' Illyria observed of the father of her beloved, 'at last you show a glimmer of intelligence' she told him, her smirk widening.

'You really have to make allowances' Willow said, 'She's just not a people person' she told the watchers. 'Or really a person if you're going to be strict about it.'

'_It_ is a monster' Roger Wyndham-Pryce retorted. 'The fact that so many cannot see it shows how far you've fallen from grace' he continued. 'I only hope that once you are freed from its malign influence' he said turning to address Molly, 'that you will see the light.'

'Matter of fact if it wasn't for Illyria I'd be dead by now' Molly replied. 'Thing like that makes someone grow on you so don't hold your breath on that one' she told him with a shrug. 'So is there anything to eat around here?' she asked, 'feeling a mite peckish after the trip.'

'It took _seconds_' Natasha pointed out.

'Maybe it's portal lag?' Molly responded. 'Sort of like jet-lag, only quicker' she theorised. 'My body thinks it's time to eat.'

'When _doesn't_ it?' the other English slayer asked sarcastically.

'Enough of that scouse backchat' Molly told her, 'I'm in charge here remember.'

'Cockney tart' Natasha retorted quietly with a grin.

Illyria reverted to her Ria form and turned to Willow. 'You expressed a desire to go shopping in Oxford Street' she said. 'Shall we be going?' she asked. 'Wesley asked me to pick up some items for him' she added. That wasn't the only reason for the delay in returning to LA. After the recent bout of portalling back and forth between dimensions Illyria could feel that the shell was starting to lose stability and it was therefore best to give it some time to stabilise itself slightly again, even for the relatively minor act of traversing a few thousand miles within one realm.

Getting the God-King out of there seemed like a very good idea to the witch and she nodded her enthusiastic assent. 'We'll be back in a few hours' she told the slayers. 'You'll be alright?'

'We'll be fine' Molly replied, 'just got to get set up in the new digs and get ready for a good nights vampire slaying' she said happily. 'I know this kebab place we can go to later' she told Danielle, 'best chilli sauce south of the river' she said happily.

The French girl frowned, the sooner they got a nice Paris office the better, the English idea of what constituted food was even worse than the Americans, albeit with smaller portions.

Illyria showed herself out with Willow tagging along behind, maybe she could get something nice for Kennedy and teleport back home via a stopover in Cleveland she thought.

Roger Wyndham-Pryce muttered dark thoughts. Something needed to be done about the demon before she led the poor fools that had accepted her into their midst to disaster he decided.

'So' Molly began, 'where can we lock up the machineguns then?' she asked brightly.

**Wolfram and Hart Building – Los Angeles – January 2004**

Lilah Morgan pressed the off button on the television remote which blacked out the image being projected onto the screen which itself then rolled smoothly up into its housing on the ceiling. In an unusual fit of pique she threw the remote onto the conference table where it bounced and clattered to a halt half way down the table, stopping in front of Izzerial who ignored it. She herself was surprised at her reaction, it wasn't like it was the first time she'd watched the thing but it still pushed her buttons, the sheer audacity and cheek of it was infuriating.

The members of the Circle of the Black Thorne and their various aides and servants turned in their chairs to face Lilah who was herself flanked at the head of the table by Hamilton to the right and Hauser as her military advisor to the left, the latter looking a great deal scruffier in black combat fatigues than the former in his expensively tailored suit. 'Their willingness to take such action surprised me' Lilah admitted. 'I didn't think they had the _cojones_, not yet at least' she told the group, 'but I've got to say the thing that _really_ pisses me off is getting a DVD film of the entire proceedings through the mail with backing music and a running commentary added as audio.'

The Archduke Sebassis slammed his fist down on the table. 'They mock us' he bellowed, incensed almost beyond words, 'they mock us' he repeated, 'they treat us with derision and scorn' he said. 'They ridicule me by parading their slaughter of my warriors in such a fashion, _me_ who commands forty legions!'

'I make it closer to thirty-nine and a half' Ed, the Leader of the Fell Brethren, whispered to Izzerial sat next to him, the latter choking back laughter in response.

Overhearing the comment Sebassis glared at the pair of them and they both had the decency to look guilty about it. It was after all an attack on Wolfram and Hart and the Circle as a whole, not just one member. 'I have already dispatched three more Legions to Pylea and they are securing the strategic positions on that world against another Slayer invention into our territory' Sebassis declared. 'The success of their cowardly sneak attack will not be repeated I assure you.'

'It will be if you continue to try using swords, claws and teeth against machineguns and mortars' Hauser interjected. 'You just saw what modern weapons can do to a pre-industrial army' he told the Archduke.

'My warriors are mightier than any of your kind' Sebassis declared haughtily.

Hauser crossed his arms. 'I've killed demons' he said. 'The only difference from killing humans is how many times you need to shoot them to put them down' he stated flatly. 'It might be five times your strength, be able to rip steel plate to ribbons with its claws and shoot paralysing mucus out of its nose but if you blow its head off before it can get closer than thirty feet none of that means a damn.'

Lilah nodded her agreement, one of the greatest weaknesses of demonkind as a whole was that so few clans, especially the aggressive ones otherwise best suited for combat, were willing to use tools or artefacts, especially those of human design and manufacture. 'Even if we assume only a small percentage of slayer resources are deployed in Pylea the damage they could inflict now they've clearly taken the gloves off is likely to be extreme' she noted.

'They cannot possibly think to take the world from us' Sebassis retorted. 'At most they have a few hundred warriors.'

'I doubt they'd even send more than a few dozen and you're right they _can't_ take Pylea from us, even if they come out ahead at every engagement they cannot attempt to hold the ground they take or their campaign would instantly grind to a halt' Lilah agreed, she had been discussing the issue with Hauser who was ex-military himself and seemed to know his business. 'What they _can_ do is annoy the crap out of us and hope we eventually give it up as a lost cause because it's not worth the effort of staying.'

Hamilton meshed his fingers on the desk. 'Illyria doesn't think like a slayer' he said. 'She, or rather it, was a warlord with a deserved reputation as a superior tactician and strategist' he told them. 'Buffy Summers would never have conceived of an operation such as this so we must assume that the God-King is the one pulling the strings, which furthermore means they're working to a plan.'

'And given that Illyria is immortal the bitch could be thinking _very_ long-term' Lilah interjected. 'So the question is have _we_ got the stomach to take the losses, to hold out until _they_ quit' she asked rhetorically. 'Just because Illyria might be willing to accept having slayers stuck on Pylea fighting us for year on end that doesn't mean the slayers _themselves_ will be willing to stick it out as long as it takes' she continued. 'They want a war, we'll give them a war' she said imperiously, 'Wolfram and Hart has always been in it for the long haul, they might be all flush with excitement at their new status as the new tough guy on the block but this is still _our_ turf and we won't give up without a fight' she declared, 'and if they're taking the gloves off then so are we' she added.

'The Senior Partners have authorised a change in our off-world policy in order to meet this threat' Hamilton announced. 'Each branch office on Earth is receiving orders to dispatch a section of their special ops personnel to the LA Office in preparation for redeployment to Pylea, additionally we are stripping our holding dimensions of part of their guard establishments who as you know are both trained and armed with automatic weapons and moreover equipped with armoured Troop Carriers.'

'Humans?' Sebassis said in shock. 'You are dispatching human troops to Pylea?'

'Well the holding dimension guards aren't really human as such' Lilah noted, 'they're really just constructs like Hamilton here, but you're correct in that the special ops we're sending are' she agreed. 'We've already put the plan into motion' she told them giving Hauser the nod to explain.

'My own second in command will be in charge of the units we're sending to Pylea' Hauser told them. 'They are mainly intended to act as advisors to the occupation forces in terms of modern human weaponry and tactics' he explained, 'although they will be fully armed and will take on a combat role when needed' he told them.

Sebassis opened his mouth to speak again but Lilah raised her hand to interrupt. 'Yes we know most of your demon troops don't play well with others, especially humans, but you do have several species under your command who are less rigid in outlook and we will integrate our advisors to units primarily made up of those clans' she advised him. 'At the moment the slayers have the monopoly on firearms and explosives on Pylea and that gives them an advantage we can't allow.'

Hamilton nodded. 'Fight fire with fire, or rather firepower with firepower' he said.

'And let's see how much stomach the slayers have for fighting on another world when the bullets are heading towards them for a change' Lilah added.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_Wolfram and Hart mercs vs. Slayer mercs... well you didn't think I'd make it too easy for the good guys did you? ;-)_

_As ever this fanfic runs on reviews. _


	3. Chapter 3

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – January 2004**

Ashton had eventually managed to get the rebels into an approximation of a neat line and was now walking along it trying to get an appreciation of what he had to work with, so far he wasn't hugely impressed but it could have been a hell of a lot worse he considered. At least they didn't look half-crazed like some of the militia rabble he'd run into with the Legion in Africa.

Quite how the Groosalug had found them all out here and got them to head to the rally point the mercenary didn't know, but they did at least seem willing to fight and that was a start. They had already heard the tales of humans from another realm fighting the invaders with strange and powerful weapons, of a blue demon woman who had freed prisoners due for execution and that among the newcomers was the human who had led the rebels when they had taken the castle three years before. That very same human, one Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, was currently sat on the ground nearby, leaning back against a tree while he looked over a map of the region. Although most of the slayers and equipment had returned to Earth, after the raid on the castle five days before, some had stayed behind to scout and prepare for the start of the planned guerrilla campaign as had Wesley himself.

The mercenary stopped walking along the line and looked one of the rebels in the eye. 'Where you from boy?' he asked.

The rebel and former slave looked confused. 'Umm… Pylea' he answered eventually.

Ashton snorted. 'Pylea!' he exclaimed. 'There's only two things come from Pylea' he said, 'demons and pussies, and I don't see no horns so that kinda narrows it down' he said dismissively.

Wesley raised the map in front of his face so the rebels wouldn't see his expression as he fought back laughter.

The mercenary stepped back further from the line so they could all see him clearly. 'For some reason the people paying me think you're worth saving' he told them, 'personally I don't fucking see it but that's not my department' he said. 'My job here is to teach you ignorant bastards how to fight a war, a real war with _real _weapons' he announced holding up the rifle that had been slung around his shoulder up until now. 'Alright you primitive screwheads listen up' he ordered. '_This_ is my _boomstick_' he thundered, the line, which he delivered totally deadpan, causing several nearby slayers to start fighting back the laughter themselves. 'It's a Kalashnikov AK-47 Assault Rifle' he explained showing it around. 'This weapon carries a thirty round magazine of 7.62 by 39 cartridges which have a muzzle velocity of over one-thousand-five hundred miles an hour and an effective range of three hundred metres' he informed them. 'Now I know that means nothing to any of you but watch this' he said pulling back the cocking lever and shouldering the weapon aiming it a sheet of steel plate with a rough target painted on it which had been set up leaning against a tree stump fifty yards away.

The rifle fired a single shot, the sound of the report making several of the rebels jump as the mercenary placed the shot right in the middle of the target, punching straight through the metal and embedding itself in the stump behind. 'That piece of steel plate is over twice as thick as the bucket helmets we've seen people wear on this planet' Ashton told them, 'and this weapon can do that at three times that distance easy, not that I expect any of _you_ to be any good at aiming' he added. 'One thing's for sure though, the demon you're shooting at is going to have himself a hard fucking time getting close enough to take a bite out of your ass' he noted.

'You're giving those to _us_?' one of the rebels asked.

'That's the idea' Ashton replied, 'once you've convinced me you won't accidentally kill yourselves, or much worse me' he continued, 'and if you liked that watch _this_' he added taking aim again and firing five shots in quick succession into the target. 'Set on semi-automatic this weapon will fire every time you pull the trigger and you can do that as fast as you want' he told them, 'but that ain't all' he said. 'Suppose you find yourself face to face with a ten foot tall demon charging at you, blowing a few little holes in the fucker ain't going to stop him in time to stop him ripping your head off right?' he asked rhetorically, 'wrong' he declared, pressing a slide on the side of the rifle downwards another notch.

The mercenary pressed down the trigger and, fighting hard against the recoil, dumped the rest of the magazine full-auto into the target, riddling the steel plate with holes and sending pieces of wooden tree-stump flying everywhere. The noise was deafening, the tongue of flame from the front of the weapon adding to the intimidating effect.

Ashton lowered the now empty weapon, 'Trust me, that'll stop the bastard right in his tracks' he told the awestruck rebels flatly. 'And if I _ever_ see any of you waste ammunition like that when you don't really need to I _will_ make this hell dimension live up to its fucking name' he informed them seriously. 'So now you've seen the future' he said resting the rifle against his shoulder. 'There's a saying back in my world, he that lives by the sword dies by getting his head blown off at a hundred yards by the guy with the gun.'

Ashton turned towards Vi, who had been waiting for her cue, and gave her a nod. She stepped forward to address the new recruits. 'First things first' she said. 'You will all be issued with camouflage pattern clothing like ours' she told them indicating the disruptive pattern battledress uniform she was wearing. 'This will make you much harder for the enemy to see and will at least make you _look_ like soldiers' she continued. 'Try and pick out the boots closest to your size, because we _will_ be running your ass off testing your physical fitness as well as giving crash courses in hand-to-hand combat, weapons training and basic ambush skills.'

'The most important thing you need to remember is to do what you are damn well told' Ashton told them. 'If myself, Perković that's the tall guy over there' he explained, 'or any of the girls with us tells you to do something just assume we know something you don't and do it _before_ you ask why.'

'Take orders from women? Little girls?' one of the rebels, a large heavily muscled man asked scornfully.

Ashton looked to Vi who shrugged then walked over to the man concerned. She grabbed him by the rough cloth shirt he was wearing twisted the material into a decent handhold and lifted him bodily into the air one handed. 'Any of us "little girls" could break you in half' she told him. 'Like the man said, just do what you're damn well told' she advised the man then lowered him gently to the ground as he stared at her wide-eyed.

'Best to keep the male chauvinism under wraps people' Ashton told the rebels. 'If you piss them off they can really put the hurt on you' he advised them seriously. 'Just be grateful they're really here to put the hurt on the enemy.'

'Why are _you_ here?' one of the rebels asked him.

'For the hell of it' Ashton answered. 'Plus fifteen hundred US a week' he added before his face broke out into a grin. 'Okay maggots, welcome to the First Battalion Pylean Defence Forces' he told them. 'Grab your gear from the girls giving it out and then we'll get started' he said enthusiastically. 'So who knows how far they can run without throwing up' he asked rhetorically, 'because you'll all know by the end of today' the mercenary declared sadistically.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – January 2004**

Emily burst out of the conference room in floods of tears and nearly crashed headlong into Buffy before heading for her room at a run ignoring the slayers question as to what was wrong completely.

Buffy looked into the conference room and found Giles sat there looking perturbed. 'So how's fatherhood working out for you?' she asked.

Giles speared her with a look. 'I could do without the sarcasm thank you' he replied curtly. 'I just got berated by another young lady and don't need any more abuse directed my way thank you very much.'

Buffy stepped inside and closed the door behind her. 'So what was that about?' she asked feeling suitably chastened by his reply.

'Stephen going to Cleveland' Giles answered.

'Ah' Buffy responded, 'should have guessed.'

'She thinks it's all my doing' Giles told her, 'that I'm trying to keep them apart.'

Buffy sat herself on the edge of the conference table. 'Why would she think you'd do something like that?' she asked.

Giles frowned. 'I found them in bed together' he said, 'no they weren't having sex thank God, just fooling around' he said quickly as Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, 'but needless to say I went ballistic.'

'Which is why she thinks you're sending him more than half way across the country' Buffy noted. 'It's not is it?' she asked. 'I mean not even a little bit?'

Giles rolled his eyes. 'If I had much of a choice I'd keep him here for a while longer as it happens' he replied, 'he's still got too much to learn, but the fact is he's the best available man for the job. We can't leave Robin there for ever and despite his field experience and upbringing he wasn't academy trained like Stephen, we could bring in one of the retired watchers from England but I don't think they'd react well to the way Kennedy does things, she's too headstrong.'

Buffy nodded her agreement. 'The girls yank Stephens chain but they all listen to him at least' she said. 'I overheard Rona chew out of the newbies once for calling him D'Artagnon, she told her she had to earn the right to do that first because he'd already proved himself which means she didn't get to talk back to him until she did too' she told him. 'I swear Stephen was trying not to cry' she added with a smile.

'He just wants to be taken seriously' Giles remarked, 'though he'd have better luck with that if he keeps the waterworks to a minimum' he added with a chuckle.

'So what does he have to say about it?' Buffy asked. 'Cleveland I mean.'

'He thinks it's his duty to go where he's needed and that means a lot to the boy' Giles answered. 'On the other hand he seems split between being really happy at the promotion and being really unhappy at leaving Emily behind' he told Buffy. 'He says he loves her, as a matter of fact when I found them in bed together and lost my rag he practically screamed it at me, we almost came to blows.'

Buffy chuckled. 'Think you could take him?' she asked.

'I've got a better right hook but he's pretty handy with his fists himself and faster so I wouldn't want to have to find out' Giles replied. 'At least he didn't challenge me to a duel like at Halloween, he'd cut me to ribbons with a long blade' he said with a grimace.

'That boy was definitely born two hundred years too late' Buffy agreed. 'So would you like me to have a word with Emily?' she asked.

'Would you?' Giles asked in mild surprise. 'I don't think she'd listen to me.'

'I can't guarantee she'll listen to me either' Buffy told him, 'but I'll try and get her to stop crying. But you have to do me a favour in return.'

'What?' Giles asked suspiciously.'

'When I tell Spike the mission we've got planned for him you have to stop him crying too' Buffy deadpanned, her eyes twinkling.

Giles grimaced. 'I'm getting the worst of the deal' he replied. 'It's one thing sending a fifteen year olds boyfriend to a Hellmouth two thousand miles away, but sending some poor bastard to go get Drusilla is downright despicable, sometimes I wonder when we became so heartless.'

'Think I should tell him Angel's going with him at the same time to get the whole thing dealt with all at once, or should I stagger the bad news?' Buffy asked breaking out into a grin.

'Don't prolong the agony, tell him everything' Giles suggested. 'Given that Drusilla is the girl in question he's bound to realise we wouldn't be sending him alone' he continued. 'You don't think Angel will cry too do you?'

'No he'll get just introspective and maudlin' Buffy replied, 'and he'll bicker with Spike.'

'So no effect on him whatsoever?' Giles queried.

'Nothing noticeable' Buffy agreed.

**Family Homestead – Pylea – January 2004**

The two warrior demons had the family matriarch pinned against the wall, she struggled but they were far stronger, of a demon clan from offworld that possessed considerably greater physical strength than one of the Deathwok. Their officer stood in front of her playing with a large blade, it already bore the blood of the family Flehegna beasts which they had slaughtered in front of her eyes as a warning before dragging her back in the house.

'I have not heard of Numfar in four moons' she protested. 'I only know that he went to join his cousin Landokamar to fight against you offworlders as any true Pylean would.'

The officer snarled. 'We are no interested in your idiot son Numfar' he said. 'He was caught and sent to our holding camp in the Scumpits of Ur long since past' he told her then smiled viciously. 'Landokamar's body was fed to our Hellhounds and his head sent to our enemies as a warning, it is your other son we are interested in.'

'I have no other son' the Deathwok demon protested.

'Krevslorneswath, known as Lorne' the officer declared. 'That is the one we're interested in.'

The matriarch looked confused. 'Why would you care about that disgrace to his family, I forsook him years ago you the shame he bought to his clan.'

The officer lifted the sword to her throat, one of the more entertaining ways to kill a Deathwok was to decapitate them and then prop up the disembodied head to watch while you tortured the flesh of their bodies until they died. 'Our seers have told us that he has been wandering the land as a spy, gathering information on our forces' he declared. 'I doubt he would visit this world without coming to see his own mother, where is he?' he asked.

'My son has no more regard for me than I for him' she protested, then frowned 'Why would he spy upon you?' she asked in confusion.

'He is affiliated with the greatest enemy of both the Covenant of Trombli and the forces of the Wolf Ram and Hart, almost all of their forces are human cattle he however can move around this world unchallenged as our own troops cannot tell one member of the Deathwok from another, you all look and smell alike.'

'Well that ain't so' a voice interrupted from behind him. 'I always put on a splash of Calvin Klein aftershave in the morning' it said.

The Officer froze. 'Krevslorneswath?' he asked.

'In the flesh' Lorne replied, 'and some really itchy local clothes' he continued. 'The sooner I get back into a nicely tailored suit the better.'

The officer looked at his two men who had the Deathwok Demons mother pinned to the wall but who were now looking at the figure stood behind him. 'Does he have a strange device in his hand pointed at me' he asked.

'Why yes I do' Lorne interrupted. 'I could lie and say it was a hairdryer, because those locks of yours really could do with a little volume added' he said, 'but I'd be terribly insincere because I couldn't have dealt with the other three flunkeys outside with one of those now could I?' he asked sarcastically. 'In case you want to know my friend Wesley says it's a Berreta 92F with a silencer fitted, honestly I just pull the trigger and somebody falls over, that's all I need to know myself.'

'So she _was_ lying' the officer observed staying perfectly still, the power and effectiveness of human weaponry had been clearly proven only days before and he had personally witnessed the aftermath, whole cohorts of demon soldiers cut down like wheat before the scythe.

'No, this is the first she's seen of me in three years and our relationship is a touch strained' Lorne replied, 'dysfunctional they'd say back home.'

'Home? This is your home' the officer replied, stalling as he tried to think of a way out of this situation that didn't end with his brains all over the rug on the floor.

'Home is where the heart is they say' Lorne responded, 'and I don't mean my left butt cheek' he added. 'My home is Earth, I don't even like Pylea, or my family when it comes right down to it.'

'Then why are you standing behind me in your mother's house with a gun to my back?' the demon officer asked.

'Good question' Lorne conceded, 'well borrowing a sentiment from an unusually good sequel there's a difference between not liking your birth dimension and family, and not caring when some evil prick invades it and pins your mother to a wall with a sword at her throat' he answered and pulled back the hammer of the pistol in his hand with a nice metallic click. 'Please drop the weapon, and tell your goons to drop, I mean gently lower my mother before I get sentimental about my cousin Landok and blow your head off.'

'I could open her throat up with a flick of my wrist' the officer declared. 'You drop _your_ weapon' he replied.

Lorne laughed. 'If you had that steel pointed at her ass I might take that seriously but even taking her head completely off just means I've got to reattach it afterwards' he pointed out. 'That would be after I've dumped your corpses in the river over there you understand.'

'How do I know you won't kill me anyway?' the officer asked.

'You don't but honestly I'm not a violent man' Lorne told him. 'I hate hurting people and I really hate killing them' he continued, 'but that doesn't mean I won't do it, I'll just feel bad about it afterwards' he confessed. 'Now drop the damn sword.'

The officer knew that as soon as he dropped the sword he was dead. He only had one chance, he span around as fast as he could to try and disarm the Deathwok.

Lorne pulled the trigger and put a round straight through the officers skull before he was half way around, why couldn't he have listened, Lorne thought despondently, he would have honestly let them go he thought to himself as he gunned down the other two demons that ran at him after he killed their officer.

'Shit' Lorne swore. 'Why did they have to make me do that' he asked sadly. 'Hi Ma' he said to his shocked mother. 'You don't have to do the dance of joy' he told her. 'Grab the things you can't leave behind and we need to go meet up with my friends' he said. 'They'll look after you' he reassured her.

'Why… why are you here?' she asked him looking down at the three demons he had so effortlessly slain.

'I was walking past a patrol a few hours ago and did you know that Darmeen Demons could whistle?' he asked. 'Well neither did I, but they can, and I found out that another squad was going to be heading up to see you today so I thought I'd better intervene.'

'You're dressed like a merchant' she said.

'Easier to get around without attracting suspicion that way' he told her. 'Come on we really do need to be going, I can't fight the whole occupation off with a pistol, I'm not even that good a shot' he admitted. 'The sooner I can get you out of here the sooner I can see about getting Numfar out of the pokey.'

Lornes mother blinked, 'I would not have come for you' she admitted.

He smiled back at her. 'I'll take that as an admission I'm a better son than you are a mother' he replied. 'You may have just saved me a few thousand bucks worth of therapy, thanks Ma' he told her with a grin.

Lorne gently lowered the hammer on his pistol, put on the safety catch and began to unscrew the silencer so he could stick it back in his pocket. Maybe now he was back in this neck of the woods he could see how things were down at the waterhole, try out some of the lines he'd learned on Earth with the senoritas? Oh well, too much to do to be thinking about getting some loving, he decided. 'Hey Ma' he called out to his mother who was now in the next room throwing things into a bag. 'Have you got any of those cakes I liked which you always gave to Numfar instead?' he asked, 'I've been living off these things called MRE's for two weeks and even your cooking sounds good right now' he declared stepping over the dead officer heading for the kitchen.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This fanfic runs on reviews. _

_In case you don't know an MRE is a US Army ration pack ("Meal - Ready to Eat", or more often "Meal - Rejected by Everyone/Ethiopians" depending how politically correct you are). This Fanfic does **not **run on MRE's :-p_


	4. Chapter 4

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Scumpits of Ur – Pylea – January 2004**

Coming to a halt Illyria felt herself sinking slowly into the fetid swamp, the stench was unbelievably foul as they trudged through the marshlands and thick vegetation that filled the terrain. Most of the others had an improvised cloth mask over their nose and mouth to try and ward off the worst of the stink but the God-King was made of much sterner stuff despite having a much better sense of smell than everyone bar the halfbreed and the Groosalugg.

'What are we stopping for?' one of the small team of slayers accompanying the group asked.

Illyria ignored the question as she reached down and cupped a handful of murky water into her palm then raised it to her nose to get a better appreciation of the aroma. It had a slightly foamy, inky surface that clearly explained why this area got its much deserved name. The local fauna was really nasty too, most everyone had at least some blood on their swords and the conditions were so wretched even killing something big, vicious and scaly hadn't brightened anyone's mood.

'Yes we all know it smells like crap but can we please get a move on' Angel requested of the ever curious demon god. 'I just want to rescue Lorne's brother and get back out of this dump by nightfall' he continued wishing he didn't have such good senses. Even the humans looked nauseous and they didn't have a fraction of his nasal sensitivity.

Illyria put her hand to her mouth and tasted the filthy water with her tongue. 'Oh gross' one of the slayers exclaimed almost gagging at the thought as Illyria seemed to be savouring the flavour before spitting it out and releasing the remainder through her fingers.

'This is wonderful' Illyria declared happily turning towards the others with a beaming smile, 'a marvellous discovery.'

'No offence my little blueberry muffin' Lorne responded, 'but nobody but you is _ever _going to want to drink this sludge' he told her.

'I do not wish to _drink_ this foul liquid, and I find the miasma exuded by it as rank as you' Illyria retorted. 'It is the nature of the chemicals within it that is so pleasing and not in terms of taste.'

Angel forced himself to take an extra deep whiff of the surroundings, there had been something reminiscent of the smell from back home in LA and he suddenly realised what it was. 'La Brea' he said, 'it smells like the tar pits.'

'Hydrocarbons' Illyria replied, nodding enthusiastically. 'We are likely atop a source of petroleum that is seeping into the swamps giving them such a offensive aroma.'

'We've found oil?' one of the slayers asked looking around.

'I will start Knox looking into oil drilling and refining technology on my return' Illyria told the group. 'This is extremely good news, along with the geological survey data already collected we should be able to develop Pylea to an advanced state very quickly once the Wolf Ram and Hart are ousted' she declared starting to move off again.

'Other geological data?' Angel queried following her.

'Our aerial surveys and small scale rock sampling have shown there to be great undeveloped mineral worth here' Illyria replied. 'As well as iron deposits in the hills to the south, we also suspect large quantities of pitchblende to be present which is especially welcome, in the long term at least.'

'What the heck is pitchblende?' Lorne asked as they started trudging their way through the swamp again.

'Uranium Ore' Illyria replied in an upbeat fashion. 'It will be decades until we can build up the necessary infrastructure for indigenous production of nuclear weapons but it is an excellent find nonetheless.'

'Nuclear weapons?' the Groosalug exclaimed. 'She is surely kidding is she not?'

'When you get to know her better you'll realise Illyria doesn't make jokes about things like that' Lorne told him. 'We just humour her and check her room for stolen weapons of mass destruction every few days just in case.'

Illyria snorted. 'The sooner you people grasp the necessity and desirability of a stockpile of nuclear armed IDPM's the better' she declared.

'IDPM's?' Lorne queried.

'Inter-Dimensional-Portalling-Missiles' Illyria explained.

'And she's already named them' Angel responded, shaking his head sadly.

'Your pacifistic attitude towards the deployment of the most powerful weaponry available is anachronistic and likely stems from the barely post-feudal sensibilities of your upbringing' Illyria observed. 'If I was given a free hand to determine policy our enemies here would be nothing more than a line of crucified ornaments lining the main roads within six months and the Wolf, Ram and Hart would be begging for mercy within the year' she declared haughtily.

'If we wanted to operate like a cross between the Mongol Horde and the Waffen SS you mean' Angel retorted. 'This soul I've got in here has taken too many people too much time and effort to put in place for me to stain it with the kind of methods you think are acceptable.'

Illyria sighed, they'd already come a long way from their earlier total wussyness but they were still far from where they should be, she thought. Hopefully a couple of years hard fighting in Pylea would toughen them up she considered. 'How much further is it?' she asked.

The Groosalug looked around. 'According to what we've been told by the rebels, and my knowledge of this place from my banishment here, the detention camp is another seven miles march' he replied. 'The ground will firm up slightly soon but we will meet greater numbers of larger predators' he continued. 'Several packs of Drokken beasts roam the area as well as far nastier creatures' he told them.

One of the slayers groaned. 'I could have been blowing up bridges and ambushing patrols with Vi and the mercs but oh no I volunteered for this crap' she complained.

'The operative word there is "volunteered" to my way of thinking' Angel told her.

'I got suckered' the Slayer retorted. 'Nobody ever mentioned the phrase "Scum Pits" to me' she stated, 'only something about rescuing Lorne's cousin and some other guys from a prison camp in somewhere called Ur which was a days march away.'

'Pits, scummy or otherwise, were definitely not talked about' another slayer agreed.

'We'll let you off the next crappy mission that comes up okay?' Angel placated them.

Illyria ignored the mindless babble and regarded the surroundings with a new appreciation of their worth. Iron, oil and uranium, she thought to herself, the foundations of Empire.

As for the swamp it still tasted better than Bringer she decided.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – January 2004**

Faith led the girl into the dining room holding her hand like that of a nervous child as she steered her towards a vacant table. 'Just sit there and I'll bring your breakfast over' Faith told her and went to collect a couple of trays.

Dana could feel all the eyes directed her way and it was oppressive, she recognised a few of the faces as girls who had either delivered her meals or checked the bars on her windows from time to time but most were strangers, this was the first time she had been out of her room since she arrived in the hotel.

The mentally disturbed slayer started to tap nervously on the table, she had been getting increasingly stable of late and hadn't tried to bite anyone in over two months although she still scared the crap out of most of the girls, she was as strong as any of them and certifiably insane, that tended to concern the other hotel residents considerably.

Faith returned with two trays which Andrew had already put together in preparation for their arrival. Dana's favourite cereal and a glass of chocolate milk put down in front of her seemed to calm her somewhat and she began to concentrate on her meal as the number of people staring at her started to reduce.

'Hello' a young girl said taking a seat across from the pair and putting her own tray down. 'I'm Deborah you must be Dana' she said smiling.

Dana looked up from her cereal and stared at the girl. 'Hello' she said eventually and reached for her glass.

Jessica following on behind grimaced when she saw where her twin had decided to take a seat but she wasn't about to wimp out by going somewhere else and sat down next to her causing Dana to look from one to the other with interest. 'This is my sister Jessica' Deborah introduced her sibling, 'we're twins.'

'You know she ain't stupid' Faith told them with a chuckle causing Dana to smile herself. 'These two are baby watchers' she told the girl.

'I had dreams of watchers' Dana said. 'Then they stopped.'

'Yeah we all got cut off' Faith responded. 'No more creepy slayer dreams.'

'The watchers in my dreams were old men but they sounded like these two' Dana noted.

'Watchers have been big on the Limey recruitment for a while I reckon' Faith agreed.

Dana looked around. 'Where's your Mom and Dad?' she asked curiously. They were the youngest ones here although some of the younger slayers might only be a year or two older.

Both of the twins flinched as did Faith who was about to change the subject when Jessica spoke up. 'Our parents were killed' she answered. 'Murdered, blown to bits' she added quietly.

The slayer blinked and trembled slightly. Faith looked concerned and put her hand on Dana's shoulder. 'Did you see it?' Dana asked them.

'No' Jessica replied.

'Good' Dana told them, staring off into the distance.

Another person came up to the table and threw Dana a concerned look before looking down at the twins. 'Which one of you took my calculator?' she asked.

'I think it's in my schoolbag' Jessica replied.

'Well give it back I need it for maths class' the other girl said angrily. 'Don't take my things' she said sharply.

'This is our sister Emily' Deborah said. 'Emily this is Dana.'

'Umm, hello' Emily responded to the slayer who was looking at her intently, it was extremely intimidating and sent a shudder down her spine which tried not to let show on her face.

'Emily is cranky because her boyfriend got sent to Cleveland yesterday' Deborah noted.

Emily scowled. 'You didn't want him to go either' she responded.

'Not because I was going to miss putting my tongue down his throat' Deborah replied with a smirk. 'And it's not like I went all psycho about it screaming at Giles' she continued then cringed realising what she's said, 'no offence meant on the psycho thing' she told Dana earning herself another scowl, this time from Faith.

'We're leaving for school in twenty minutes' Emily told her sisters, 'Fred is driving us, don't be late' she added then headed back to her room, she'd eaten breakfast earlier being an earlier riser than the twins.

Dana finished off her cereal starting to relax as she looked around. Having Faith there was comforting, the older slayer spent hours with her just talking, often without Dana talking back but she still stayed. Faith didn't like to be hugged, Dana could tell from her reactions, but she hugged her anyway.

Faith smiled watching her. They had been hoping to loosen the reins on their resident disturbed slayer and it looked like she was ready. Based on what Illyria had told them Dana was far more stable here than she had been in the original timeline, the activation and subsequent slayer dreams had broken her from her catatonic state as before but their abrupt ending had prevented them sending her completely off the edge, she was still able to differentiate between the dreams of prior slayers and her own life. Getting her out of the institution had helped too, their "treatment" for her condition had been to fill her full of tranquillisers which subdued her but only screwed her up even more inside. The man that had killed her family and tortured her had stuck her with needles to make her weak and sleepy too, the last thing she needed was more of that.

Faith noted that Dana had finished off her milk 'You can go get yourself some more from over there' she told Dana pointing across the room. 'The depressed looking chick handing out breakfast is Eve' she told her, 'don't mind her she's just miserable because she can't leave the hotel.'

'Is she on medication too?' Dana asked, she wasn't given massive shots of Thorazine here but they still made sure to give her mood stabilisers.

'No but she sometimes self-medicates with scotch and then cries a lot because her boyfriend hasn't come back for her and if she ever steps outside somebody might kill her' Faith answered. 'I think I'd feel sorry about that if she wasn't an evil bitch'

Dana picked up her empty glass and got up heading to where Eve was, several people still turning to track her movements though less than when she first came in Faith was glad to see. If they treated Dana more like a normal person maybe it would rub off on her?

'She doesn't seem as crazy as I thought' Deborah told Faith. 'Emily cried for like six straight hours after Stephen left, now _that_ was crazy' she declared, 'and whiny' she added.

Faith chuckled. 'Wait until you fall in love with some boy' she told her. 'You'll be a fruitloop too.'

Spike entered the room and spotted Dawn waiting for him with the usual mug of blood she had waiting for him every morning he headed towards her remembering to steer around the furniture en-route and was almost halfway there nearly reaching the table where Faith and the twins were when Dana tore across the room and intercepted him baring her teeth and practically snarling, hands raised like claws.

'Fucking hell' Spike exclaimed jumping back. He was fully aware of who Dana was and had heard the tale of getting his hands chopped off by her in another reality. A slayer who wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders wasn't exactly a nice thought.

'Vampire' Dana hissed looking like she was preparing to spring to the attack.

'Whoa sweetheart' Faith said interposing herself between them. 'Spike's okay' she said. 'You know I told you about him and Angel, that they're good vampires who we _don't_ stake.'

Dana her eyes still blazing seemed to calm down but remained in an attack posture. 'Can't you put her on a leash or something?' Spike asked.

'Just walk around and don't make any sudden moves Spike' Faith told him keeping herself between them as he made his way towards Dawn. 'Dana it's okay, you don't need to be scared.'

'She doesn't looking bleeding scared' Spike observed backing away and weaving around a table, keeping his distance. Everyone was watching the tableau and several other slayers looked ready to help subdue Dana if necessary but the situation soon resolved itself and Faith steered Dana back to her chair just as Eve nervously bought over her refilled glass of chocolate milk then hurried away.

'It's alright Dana you don't need to protect us from Spike' Jessica told her with a smile. 'He won't hurt us, he even helped us with poetry homework once, but we're not supposed to tell anyone.'

Faith looked confused. 'What?' she asked.

'You don't read body language or situations very well' Deborah told Faith. 'We do, we were taught it at the academy and Giles teaches us now' she said. 'We're _watchers_ remember, we read and observe, it's what we do.'

Jessica nodded. 'Dana spotted Spike as soon as he came in but ignored him even though she knew he was a vampire, she only jumped in when he got near us' she pointed out. 'You were looking out for us weren't you?' she asked smiling at Dana.

'Little girls need looking after when the monsters come' Dana said quietly. 'I can look after them, not weak anymore' she said. 'Not weak anymore' she repeated picking up the spoon she'd been eating her cereal with and bent and crushed it into a twisted lump of metal in her hand before dropping it onto the table.

Deborah looked thoughtful. 'You need a watcher' she said to Dana, 'all slayers need a watcher would you like one of us to be yours?' she asked.

'Or both of us?' Jessica interjected, 'they won't let us be field watchers but I don't think they'll let you out anytime soon either' she told her.

Faith was about to veto that idea but the expression on Dana's face changed her mind. The girl's childhood had been ripped away from her in a way that made Faith's own look idyllic, and in many ways she was still very childlike in speech and mannerisms, perhaps it would be good for her, she certainly wasn't going to fit in with the others anytime soon. 'I'd better check with Buffy and Giles about this first' Faith told them.

'That's okay' Jessica replied. 'We have to go to school now anyway' she said.

'It's about time we had a slayer to look after' Deborah observed. 'I was starting to feel like an ordinary schoolkid' she said with a grimace then she grinned. 'We'll get a slayer before Emily' she realised.

'She'll be really narked' Jessica noted. 'Can I tell her?' she pleaded.

**Scumpits of Ur – Pylea – January 2004**

They had carried the thing in parts all this way and it was proving itself worth it as the tiny radio-controlled aircraft buzzed over the rustic shacks and wooden fences that made up the prison camp, although concentration camp might be a better term given the pictures it was feeding back to the laptop they had also carted along. They could have launched a night-time sneak attack but this wasn't just reconnaissance this was bait, there was something out there far more dangerous than a few Drokken and some demon guards.

A loud screech filled the air. 'And here comes Draco' one of the slayers noted looking through binoculars as a huge shape appeared in the sky heading for the camp. 'I bet it doesn't sound like Sean Connery though' she added.

The Dragon shrieked again. 'No more like you when Spike walked in on you when you were in the shower' one of the other girls declared.

'I'm still going to punch his face in for that' the blond slayer with the binoculars responded. 'Accident my ass.'

'I thought he saw your front' the second slayer stated deadpan.

'Well at least there was something to see unlike certain others I can mention' the slayer with the binoculars retorted smugly. Half the slayers were on the other side of the camp with Groo so they could assault it from two directions when the time came, they couldn't use grenades or mortars for fear of accidentally killing the prisoners which meant it was going to be rifles, swords and bayonets. Good clean wholesome twenty-first century slayer fun.

They had found a patch of ground which was slightly higher and drier than most and which afforded a view of the camp and the clearing that had been cut around it to make escape more difficult. The inmates were still constructing many of the buildings and it looked like a massive expansion was planned soon but both they and the guards were now fixated on the small device flying low over the camp. Even the guards whipping of the prisoners had stopped as they watched both the tiny aircraft and the Dragon that was hurtling in to strike it down, or maybe eat it.

'You might want to start taking evasive action there Bluebird' Lorne advised Illyria who was operating the remote control. Illyria ignored him and waited for the last second before bringing the aircraft into a steep climb followed by a sharp bank to the right to avoid a jet of flame that torched from the dragons mouth.

'Awesome' another of the slayers said as Illyria started weaving the aircraft around avoiding the dragon's attempts to catch it.

'I would appreciate somebody informing my Wesley that the hours I have spent playing flight-simulator computer games have not been the waste of my time he insists they are' Illyria told the group as she bought the thing into a full loop and ended up behind the Dragon before flying right past it's head jinking to avoid it's attempts to snap it up with a mouth full of huge sharp reptilian teeth.

Another jet of flame nearly caught the aircraft and the thermal effects buffeted the thing and Illyria nearly lost control before she recovered. 'It should be getting very hot by now' she said. 'I will bait it to fire again then you must do your job halfbreed.'

Working itself up into a frenzy trying to catch the annoying mechanical insect the dragon in fact breathed jets of fire at it twice more in quick succession but to no avail. If it had been a dogfight and the radio-controlled airplane was armed Illyria would have already been requesting the halfbreed, who had excellent drawing skills, to draw a tiny dragon on the side of the device to signify a kill. As it was the kill was going to be his.

Angel sighted the shoulder-launched Surface-to-Air Missile on the Dragon and waited for it to get a lock on the beasts heat signature. It was designed to be fired at jet aircraft at up to five kilometres away but at something like eighty-thousand dollars apiece he wanted to be much closer before he risked it, Anya would nag his ass off if he wasted the shot at that price.

The Russian made SA-16 told him it had a firm Infra-Red lock on the dragon and he squeezed the trigger. The missile blasted from the tube and rapidly accelerated on its rocket motor leaving a trail of smoke in the sky as it tore up to well over a thousand miles an hour smashing through the sound barrier as it's seeker head steered it towards its target.

Seconds later the missile slammed into the dragons flank and it's delayed charge warhead detonated after it had already buried itself into the flesh as it would normally do in the aluminium skin of a jet fighter. It wasn't a huge charge by some standards but even less than a pound of military grade high-explosives packs quite a punch and from its location buried a couple of inches inside to start with it blew a large chunk of meat away from the dragons side and showered those below in blood and pieces of flesh as the creature seemed almost to stop dead in the air before it came crashing down from the sky.

'Don't look _too_ pleased with yourself' one of the slayers told Angel who was grinning from ear to ear. 'Saint George only had a sword' she pointed out.

Angel ignored the comment. 'That head is going on my wall if I have to knock through to the next room to make space for it' he declared. 'And who wants a set of boots?' he asked happily as Illyria started making the radio-controlled plane doing victory rolls over the camp.

'Lock and load' one of the other slayers said loudly pulling back the cocking lever on her assault rifle.

Angel put down the empty launcher and drew his blade. 'Still plenty of time for swordplay' he declared and they started moving towards the camp. Hopefully the guards would put up a decent fight of it, after all that walking through swamps they all deserved some release. Angel switched on his radio to Groo's team on the other side of the camp and wiped the smile from his face, this was serious business now. 'Let's go to work' he said.

* * *

**Note from the Author:**

_This Fanfic runs on reviews (sorry about only the one chapter this week by the way, I've been a tad busy)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – January 2004**

'I do not appreciate being summoned like you have some authority over me' the man said taking the proffered chair and sitting down across from Buffy, his two companions choosing to remain standing behind him. The slayers own duo of advisors were already sat to either side of her, Willow to her right, Giles to her left, the latter leafing through a file and barely acknowledging the new arrivals.

They had been met in the lobby and were escorted by conspicuously armed guards to the conference room in a manner designed both to impress and intimidate, the slayers dressed in black paramilitary dress and wearing the black berets which were usually only to be seen over in Pylea. Two were now stood inside the room on either side of the closed door, one hand on the hilt of the short sword in the scabbard on their left hip and the other holding the grip of the carbine assault rifle resting in a sling across their chest, they were utterly expressionless and were both desperately trying not to laugh, it was just so melodramatic and made them feel like they were henchman extras in a Bond movie.

'Well you came when called Mr Drake so we must have some influence' Buffy replied evenly, trying not to sound smug. 'The fact is our reputation is spreading like wildfire in the circles you operate in and let's be completely honest, if you didn't accept the invitation you were afraid we'd come fetch you.'

Lucian Drake smirked. 'I'd have liked to have seen you try' the warlock responded, letting lighting play between his fingers.

Buffy rolled her eyes. 'Willow' she said to the redhead sat next to her who raised her hands holding them a foot apart palms together then generated a massive bolt of energy between them that crackled and filled the conference room with the smell of ozone. Buffy felt her hair stand on end with the static thrown off but Willow herself had remembered to put on some hairspray in case this kind of demonstration proved necessary.

Drake frowned, that was a lot more power than he could generate and the young woman looked like it hadn't even taken much effort on her part. He guessed the rumours concerning the slayers pet witch ripping the infamous Cyvus Vail a new asshole had a definite basis in reality. 'I have a thousand followers' he said trying to regain the upper hand. 'You can't intimidate me.'

'Yes we know about your little clique of minions but we try to treat the small-fry like you with the same courtesy that we would the major players' Buffy responded, 'and if we put the effort in we can intimidate _anyone _believe me' she told him. 'Wolfram and Hart ask permission now before they enter the building did you know that?' she asked. 'When my girls walk into a demon bar there's not a creature there that's got the guts to make eye-contact anymore' she continued. 'I've even had a necromancer send me flowers with a note attached saying he was getting out of the business and could I please not have him buried alive like he heard I was going to.'

'Alright alright I get the point you're the big cheese these days' Drake conceded, 'what is it that you want?'

Buffy rested her hands on the table in front of her and meshed the fingers together. 'We want you to stop your followers sacrificing their children in return for power and influence and the stockpiling of dark magics ends today' she replied. 'If you were demons I'd have had you summarily executed for a lot less but you're human which means you get a friendly warning before you get a really unfriendly visit' she told the warlock.

Lucian Drake sneered. 'We've got allies' he retorted, 'powerful ones, you wouldn't _dare_' he stated confidently.

'I just picked a fight with Archduke Sebassis and he's supposed to have around a quarter-million demons at his back' Buffy responded. 'Do you really think I'd think twice about giving you and your friends a taste of what a couple of hundred slayers can do?' she asked. 'I told you before you were small fry and I meant it, as for us we're goddamn _Jaws_' she told him.

The warlock narrowed his eyes. 'Like you said before we're human, you don't kill humans' he pointed out with more confidence than he felt.

'We're doing things differently these days in case you hadn't noticed' Buffy replied, 'and frankly knowing that you people have been ritually sacrificing your own children kinda takes away a lot of the moral reservations I have in asking my people to start putting heads on pikes' she continued. 'Anyway I've got allies of my own who aren't saddled with my moral objections' she told him, 'one of them suggested assassinating your ass and letting your loyal followers fight it out amongst themselves for the crown and another one suggested making a pyramid out of your skulls as an example to all the other asshole cultists out there.'

Drake flinched. 'Illyria' he said.

'You've got to love the way that girls rep travels in the magical underground' Buffy observed to Willow before turning back to the warlock. 'Hell yes Illyria' she affirmed, 'now we keep her on a leash because honestly she scares the shit out of us too' Buffy told him, 'but if I give her the green light she will carve her way through you like a rusty chainsaw and give it about as much thought afterwards as if she'd stepped on a bug.'

'I don't believe you' the warlock responded nervously.

Buffy looked at him incredulously. 'You're _child murderers_' she retorted, 'do you know how much effort it's taking me not to reach across this table and choke the life out of you right now?' she asked rhetorically. 'You're the scum of the Earth' she told him with sincerity, 'and the only thing that's stopping me putting more dirt on top of you all is the fact I'm better than you are' she said, 'but if the shit you do doesn't stop they'll be some righteous vengeance happening, mark my words.'

Giles finally looked up from his file. 'The fact is we think we're heading for some kind of supernatural Waco incident with you playing David Koresh and we want to pre-empt that before we have to start kicking in doors and throwing grenades in windows.'

'For the record we're not like the ATF' Buffy interrupted, 'the grenades we throw in won't burn the place down by _accident_' she told him. 'It'll be entirely deliberate on our part' she told him. 'The girls love incendiary grenades, don't you girls?' she asked the guards.

'Yes Slayer-Chef' they replied together.

'White phosphorus is pretty' Willow noted. 'The burning you down to the bone thing isn't though' she added with a vicious smile.

'Regardless' Giles continued, 'the fact remains that while we _are_ prepared to deal with you by force we would much rather behave like civilised people and settle the issue peacefully and quietly.'

'Find yourselves another religion' Buffy told them. 'I hear Buddhism is very serene.'

Lucian Drake looked from one face to another. 'Do you really believe that you can simply tell me to do something and I'll go along with it like a good little boy?' he asked sarcastically.

'You'd better because otherwise we'll have to give you a spanking' Buffy replied with a chuckle. 'In any case we'll give you twenty-four hours to get back to us, you're free to go' she told him. 'After that we'll make an example of you and try again with whoever takes over the reins of power' she continued, looking at his two companions with a knowing smile. The one on the left had a definite power-hungry look in his eyes she decided. 'Show our guests out please' Buffy told the guards who opened the door and stood aside to let them leave.

Stopping to direct a hateful glare in Buffy's direction the warlock stood up and led his two associates away, the guards following stomping along behind, combat boots pounding the hotel floor in unison as they kept up their role.

'I still think it would have been better if you'd been sitting there stroking a cat' Willow told Buffy. 'Or told them you were giving them an offer they can't refuse and have one of the girls standing behind them with a gun to the back of their head.'

'Too clichéd' Buffy told her. 'Now tell the truth Giles wasn't that fun?' she asked.

'If I say yes do you promise to never call me Number Two?' Giles asked hopefully.

'Would you prefer _consigliere_?' she asked, remembering joking around with Wesley on the subject before.

'Sì Capo' Giles replied in his best Italian accent.

'Buona risposta' Buffy told him.

Giles looked surprised. 'I had no idea you spoke any Italian' he told her.

Buffy shrugged. 'I've been thinking of spending some time in Rome' she told him.

The watcher frowned. 'Might be dangerous to expose yourself openly if you're thinking about sight-seeing, I'm sure we're building up enemies right around the world.'

'We could send a double to Rome first, see what happens' Willow suggested. 'Ask for slayer volunteers who look a bit like you already and I'll work some glamour mojo' she said waggling her fingers in a piece of pantomime spell-casting.

'Doubles' Buffy responded dismissively. 'Who am I, Saddam Hussein?' she asked.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – January 2004**

As soon as the one week deadline had run out they'd started run and run raids against the occupation forces, just minor stuff, some sniping and blowing up some bridges the latter being considered a lot of fun by the slayers involved but in the ten days since then the mercenary had started to teach the girls how to ambush patrols and they had rapidly become proficient at it, helped by the fact the opposition carried nothing more dangerous than swords and crossbows which weren't a great deal of help when they were walking into assault-rifle fire.

It was on-the-job training. Ashton and Perković were spending every other day giving the slayers a crash course in military mayhem whilst trying to get the Pylean rebel volunteers up to speed during the rest of the time, Wesley and Vi teaching them basic marksmanship and close-up unpleasantness when the mercenaries were otherwise engaged.

Sebassis troops had tried hunting them down, sending large groups into the forest to pursue them but it was proving both futile and occasionally bloody. Native hellhounds used as tracking dogs had successfully picked up trails but that had been countered fairly easily by sprinkling CS powder about. The barely domesticated demon canines did not enjoy sniffing up a nose-full of teargas and it had been a tactic the slayers had expected, after all Cordelia was fully aware that hellhounds were used for hunting on Pylea, one had caught her on her first visit to the world.

One particularly large patrol ended very loudly and spectacularly when it found some humans and chased them right into a grove of trees rigged with claymore mines. Ashton was smug as hell about that one for days. The shaped-charge devices worked like huge shotgun blasts, sending supersonic steel ball-bearings tearing through flesh and shattering bone. Mopping up afterwards only took a few minutes, they let one of the demons live and tied him to a tree for his friends to find when they investigated the explosions. It was just another facet of the campaign, psychological warfare as well as physical, he would tell the tale and the next time the demons ran into humans they would be wary of pursuit thinking it was another ambush.

Conversely other demon forays into the woods simply disappeared quietly and without a trace, night-vision gear, silenced pistols and good old-fashioned daggers and garrottes saw to that. Humans owned the night on Pylea these days, before long it would be the case that the demons wouldn't want to come out after dark. It was spooky out there in the woods, and occasionally sharp and pointy too.

The slayers had unbelievably high mobility for heavy infantry, you could put a fifty kilo pack on one and she could run a marathon and _still_ be fresh and fit to fight at the other end. It was a good thing they did spend every other day training the rebels because otherwise the mercenaries wouldn't have lasted a week trying to keep up, even when they abandoned their initial macho notions and got the girls to carry their gear too.

Today's little escapade was a good old fashioned piece of sabotage though. Ashton looked through his binoculars at the viaduct that supplied the local village with drinking water and half smiled. Normally they tried not to interfere with the native population but this place was known to harbour pro-Narwek sentiments and besides which it supplied food and supplies to the enemy. Blowing up the rough stone waterway that fed from across the small valley would let the locals know they shouldn't treat with the occupation forces and besides which it would be a lot of fun to turn it to rubble. There was a small enemy encampment of perhaps twenty or so personnel at the edge of town so they were going to take out a few of them at the same time if possible.

They could have done the op at night easily enough but they also wanted everyone to know they didn't mind showing themselves during the day either. It was bluster to some extent, they had less than fifty slayers on Pylea and the first group of rebels wouldn't be ready for action until late February at the earliest, but if they acted like they owned the place the other side might start to think they really did.

Ashton switched flicked on his headset microphone. 'When we blow the viaduct everyone is going to stick their head out to see what's happened' he said. 'Pick your targets carefully, if you haven't got a clear shot don't take it, we only want to hit hostiles not civilians' he told the various slayers scattered around looking through telescopic sights. 'Rika, Jan, I want officers, look out for those stupid rank insignia they wear and anyone with a fancy weapon.'

'_I would try headshots but_ _since when did officers have any brains?_' Perković replied over the radio in his thickly accented English.

'And now you all know why the big fucker never made it above the rank of Private' Ashton responded. 'Never say shit like that over an open channel girls, you never know who might be listening' he advised. 'And it's not always the _enemy_ you don't want to hear you' he added.

Told by others watching out for possible observation when to move and when to freeze over her own headset, one of the girls had already sneaked out away from the treeline and planted a charge on one of the columns supporting the thirty-foot high viaduct. It was low grade mining explosives, the good quality military stuff was too expensive for this kind of work and even old fashioned dynamite was adequate for the task. She fitted a cheap remote controlled detonator, armed it and then ran like hell for the trees again when she was told the coast was clear.

Ashton passed the detonator to the nearest girl. 'Your turn' he said and couldn't help but smile at the glee on the teenagers face as she took the transmitter in her hand and flicked off the safety. 'Countdown from five' he told her. 'Four, three, two, one…'

The slayer pressed the detonator and the dynamite exploded shattering the viaduct column in a deafening blast which echoed up the valley as pieces of cut stone rained down across the area. The structure collapsed and water began pouring out from the huge gap now present in the viaduct.

People dashed out of their homes to se what on Pylea was going on as did demon soldiers from their camp. An officer, easily identified by the insignia that seemed to be tattooed on the reptile-like skin on his bare torso looked around and was about to start screaming orders when Perković put a round right between his eyes, apparently he did have brains because they were splashed all over the demon stood behind him.

Slayers began firing single shots, picking their targets carefully, taking out the occupation garrison one at a time. Concealed and almost invisible in their camouflage clothing the girls completely dominated the scene without having to so much as show themselves to the opposition. Only Rika the South African slayer and the tall Croatian mercenary were using sniper rifles, the rest had their standard issue G-36K carbines but even the latter weapon could kill accurately at hundreds of yards and had a built-in telescopic sight. As with their earlier missions it was outright slaughter and it only took a few minutes to gun down the enemy.

Ashton frowned, it was all too easy so far and they just _couldn't_ be dumb enough not to wise up and stop letting themselves get massacred at every engagement he decided. Oh well it was certainly a wild and fun ride so far he thought to himself. The very notion that he was actually getting _paid_ to do this shit was almost unbelievable, you didn't even get the nagging conscience afterwards like you did back home after killing honest-to-God human-beings. They were the bad guys, they were quite literally monsters and they deserved everything they damn well got.

Ordering the troops to disengage and head out, the mercenary smiled to himself as they pulled their packs back on began double-timing away from the scene. The girls were coming along just fine he thought as one started boasting about how many kills she'd now racked up in the last three days.

It was another beautiful day in Pylea, the birds were singing, the sky was blue, the suns were in the sky and another batch of the enemy were draining their life-blood into the dirt. Didn't get much better than this, Ashton decided as they headed for the next valley, there was a grain silo there owned by one of Narweks cronies that was just _begging_ to be put to the torch. 'So who wants to try their hand at arson?' he asked the girls as they jogged through the forest.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – January 2004**

'The head I can understand but it's pretty sick to want it in your room if you want my opinion' Dawn told Angel. 'The skin again I can deal with and I _will_ be wanting a jacket' she continued, 'but why is there half a dozen wooden barrels of pickled dragon organs being carried down to the basement?' she asked reasonably. Illyria had opened a portal back from Pylea and Angel and a few slayers had rushed through carrying their spoils before the God-King herself arrived carrying a gigantic decapitated head which she was now hauling upstairs as a favour.

Angel put down his end of one of the gigantic rolls of dragon skin, the slayer helping him doing likewise with the other end. 'Have you ever eaten dragon kidney soup?' he queried.

Dawn grimaced. 'Oh gross' she responded sticking out her tongue.

The vampire smiled. 'Just kidding' he said. 'We weren't going to bring them until Wesley told us how much we could sell them for in China' he told her. 'There's demon clans and sorcerers over there that'll pay through the nose for this stuff, well those of them that have noses anyway.'

'How many zeros' Dawn asked curiously.

'At least six' Angel replied, 'enough to cover all of the expenses for Pylea so far and then some.'

'Cool' Dawn responded. 'Hey we could make this inter-dimensional war thing pay' she observed. 'Anya might do the money dance again.'

'I thought she gave up on that after the bank balance crossed the two-hundred million mark?' Angel asked.

'It's more of a money shuffle for anything less than fifty-mill now' Dawn conceded, 'but she did do the full routine when that accountant guy David Nabbitt recommended showed her how to cut our tax payments down' she told him. 'How _do_ you know a billionaire anyway?' she asked.

Angel straightened his jacket. 'Just because you Sunnydale types don't mix with the elite don't go thinking we're the same around here' he told her deadpan then smiled. 'We worked a case for him once, kept in contact since, he's let us use his accountant before a couple of years back' he continued. 'That was when we were trying to avoid bankruptcy not corporate taxes though' he admitted.

'He's coming around here Thursday night to play Dungeons and Dragons with the nerd patrol' Dawn told him.

Angel shrugged. 'He once came to my office wearing a cape' he told her.

Dawn pursed her lips. 'It had better not be better than Andrew's because he'll sulk if it is.'

The vampire sighed, Spike seemed to like Andrew for some inexplicable reason, not that he ever told him, but as for himself he just thought the guy was a pain in the ass. 'I'm going to get a shower' he told Dawn.

'Well I wasn't going to mention it but good idea' she responded. 'You smell like you've been hiking all over a swamp or something' she told him with a smirk.

Angel looked her in the eyes. 'You smell like you've been all over my son' he retorted, 'but _I_ wasn't going to mention it.'

Dawn blushed and Angel smiled knowingly. 'Just make sure he knows that if Buffy decides to kick his ass he's on his own' he told her and turned to head up to his room where a shower and an oversized trophy full of huge teeth would be waiting for him.

Sitting on the reception desk, Diana the new administrator looked over the top of her glasses at the rolls of dragon skin that were laid out in the centre of the lobby. 'You can't leave that there' she declared. 'Stick it in storage, this is a place of business and it looks unprofessional having people walk in and see that there' she told them.

'We kill monsters' one of the slayers who had come back from Pylea with Angel replied. 'How much more professional than having the evidence of how good we are at it right here do you want?' she asked.

'A photograph in a client brochure of Mr Angel standing by the creatures corpse would be a much more tasteful and hygienic approach' Diana responded. 'Now get it out of the way before I put in a complaint with Ms. Summers' she told them then got back to work on her computer.

Several of the slayers looked to Dawn. 'Hey I don't have any seniority' she told them. 'I just translate books, annoy Buffy and donate blood occasionally, better do as she says' she advised.

Dawn left them to it and went to find Connor, she'd better let him know his father already knew they were seeing each other now she decided then smiled, Spikes advice of just telling him she liked him had worked out great, now all she needed to do was find a way to force him to do likewise with Buffy.

At least Angel already had a girlfriend himself Dawn considered with relief, having Nina in the picture helped out a lot. A love triangle involving a slayer and two ensouled vampires might liven up the place but who needed the aggravation, their lives were complicated enough already. Anyway she couldn't run the risk of Buffy ending up with Angel, having your potential brother-in-law and father-in-law as the same person was too Jerry Springer by half, she thought with a shudder.

* * *

**_Note from the author:_**

_I hope the Dawn/Connor shippers are happy now ;-)_

_As ever this Fanfic runs on reviews_


	6. Chapter 6

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – February 2004**

Noting that the patrol had returned to camp Vi approached the nearest girl but it was as if she was looking right through her. The other slayers eyes seemingly focused off in the distance, her expression blank and she wasn't the only one of the group wearing the same expression, although others looked either angry or on the verge of tears. Looking around Vi noticed that Ashton was already reporting to Wesley and hurried over to find out what had happened.

The mercenary gave the slayer a nod of acknowledgement as she arrived and pulled his water-bottle from its pouch on his belt taking a swig before pulling off his light green Foreign-Legion beret and pouring the rest of the bottle over his head. Wesley rubbed his own neck to realease some tension and turned to Vi, a concerned expression on his face. 'We might need to send some of the girls home' he told her, 'or at least give them a couple of days off.'

'What happened?' Vi asked, doing a quick headcount. There didn't seem to be any missing and none were wounded, for that matter not only weren't they short anyone they had bought a few people back that they hadn't set out on the mission with, two women and a little girl all dressed in rags had apparently returned with them to the camp and were now being looked at by one of the girls that had gone through medic training.

The mercenary wiped the water off his face with his hand and spat on the ground. 'We took out the viaduct and double-timed to the next objective as planned' he told her.

'The grain silo' Vi queried.

Ashton nodded. 'Yeah, but that wasn't the only rations being stored there' he said then ran his hand through his close-cropped and now wet hair. 'When we went in we found the three civvies locked up waiting for their turn on the chopping block' he told Vi. 'It was a slaughterhouse too, literally.' he explained.

'Oh shit' Vi exclaimed turning to look at them her eyes widening.

The mercenary pulled his beret back on and straightened up. 'Beg to report Ma'am that we also found at least another dozen human civilians that had already been butchered and were being placed in salt barrels for use as field rations we believe' he told her in the most professional manner he could manage. 'Men, women and children' he added, twitching slightly when he said the latter.

The slayer felt her jaw drop and she looked at the girls who had been on the mission. 'Oh my God' she said quietly.

Wesley crossed his arms. 'The girls took it pretty hard according to the Corporal.'

'That's the understatement of the fucking century with respect Sir' Ashton responded coolly. 'I nearly puked myself and I've seen some really fucked-up shit in my time.'

Vi collected herself. 'What did you do?' she asked him.

'After securing the area and quashing resistance we torched the place as per orders and then dealt with the enemy prisoners that threw down arms' the mercenary replied.

Wesley looked him in the eyes. 'Dealt with?' he queried.

'I asked for volunteers for a firing squad and put them up against a wall' Ashton told them flatly. 'Some of the girls wanted to crucify them or burn them alive along with the buildings but I vetoed that' he added in an entirely matter-of-fact manner.

Wesley took a deep breath. 'How many did you kill?' he asked.

'Eleven summary executions Sir' the mercenary answered. 'Perković and myself finished them all off with a bullet to the head.'

Wesley looked away. 'Surprised you showed such mercy in the circumstances.'

Ashton straightened up. 'We're professional soldiers not psychopathic thugs' he responded curtly, 'and anyway the girls needed to think it was justice not revenge' he continued. 'Not like we can drag the bastards to the Hague to stand trial for war-crimes.'

The slayer closed her eyes. 'Did all the girls… did they see?' she asked.

'Yes Ma'am' the mercenary replied. 'I think given the circumstances you should pull the team out of the field until they get their heads straight again' he advised. 'If they went out on a mission now they could lose it, they're not hardened enough yet to deal properly' he opined then looked away. 'Just do them a favour and after they've come to terms find a nice enemy base and let them raise it to the ground to get it out of their systems' he requested.

'We'll talk it over' Wesley responded, the mercenary giving a nod in response, he knew he was only the hired help and just a grunt at that.

'One more thing Sir' Ashton said. 'I bought a case of scotch with me along with the first ammo shipment' he said. 'Request permission to get myself and the girls fucking wasted' he asked.

Wesley frowned. 'Some of them are just kids' he pointed out, 'fifteen or sixteen.'

The mercenary fixed him with a look. 'They might be fifteen or sixteen but they'll never be kids again' he replied. 'It was an adventure until today, now its not' he told them. 'By the way, congratulations you've fucked-up their lives, hope it's worth it' he added before snapping to attention and giving them a crisp salute. 'I'm going to open that scotch' he announced and marched off without waiting for a formal agreement to do so.

Wesley let his chin drop to his chest and took an uncommon interest in the ground before eventually raising it with a wry smile. 'The first casualty of war may be innocence but the second is apparently abstinence' he observed then shook his head. 'Shit' he swore and kicked the toe of his right boot hard into the earth before turning to Vi 'We'll change the mission rota to give them some time off and check tomorrow if we think any need to go home' he told her.

The slayer nodded. 'What about executing the prisoners?' she asked quietly. 'Standing orders from Buffy were not to do that.'

'I might have gone with the crucifixion idea myself so unless you want to make a big deal of it I won't' Wesley responded.

Vi nodded. 'I don't think it matters now' she told him. 'I guess things are going to get darker here from now on.'

'Inevitable I'd say' Wesley agreed.

'Does getting drunk actually help?' she asked him.

Wesley shrugged. 'Sometimes it beats the crap out of being sober' he replied honestly. 'I hope we've got plenty of aspirin in the stores I'll bet they'll be some hangovers tomorrow morning.'

'Never had one' Vi told him. 'Woken up with plenty yourself I'd bet' she added trying to force a smile.

Wesley nodded. 'Woken up with worst things' he told her. 'Lilah for example' he joked, also trying to lighten the mood, they both needed it.

'Never done anything like that either' Vi told him.

Wesley's eyes twinkled. 'Well if you do she's even more of a bitch before she's had her first cup of coffee and please provide video of the previous night' he requested.

The slayer blushed then started to giggle. 'More Kennedy's thing' she responded.

'Just keep it in mind' Wesley told her with a smile. 'So want to go out tonight and kill something?' he asked.

'Sounds good' Vi agreed. It was better than thinking about things.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – January 2004**

The door opened but instead of one of the girls answering the door as usual it was a guy wearing a T-Shirt, jeans and a pissed-off expression. 'Yes?' he asked in a British accent.

'Who are you?' the stranger asked. 'Is Shannon in?' he continued trying to look around the British guy.

'I live here' Stephen told him. 'Who are _you_?' he asked.

'I'm Shannon's boyfriend' he replied. 'Is she in?' he asked, then paused. 'What do you mean you _live_ here?' he asked.

Stephen fixed the guy with a stare. 'I mean this is where I sleep and all my stuff is here along with a horde of frequently obnoxious females' he replied. 'How old are you?' he asked suspiciously. The guy must be in his twenties Stephen decided.

'Oh for God's sake' Kennedy said from behind and pulled Stephen away from the door. 'Come in Greg' she told the visitor then turned to yell 'Shannon' she bellowed. 'Greg's here' she told the other girl who was in her room.

'I'll be out in a minute' Shannon yelled back, her voice muffled by the closed door.

Kennedy addressed the visitor. 'Greg this is Stephen, he's a friend of ours and crashes here at the moment until we can find somewhere else to put him' she explained. 'Like he said Greg is going out with Shannon' she told the watcher.

Stephen looked the guy up and down and sized him up deciding he'd beat the crap out of him in a fair fight and kill him in an unfair one. 'So what do you do?' he asked.

'I go to Cleveland State' Greg answered. 'What's it got to do with you?'

'Just idle curiosity' Stephen replied. He was dying to comment that he was too old for Shannon but he could do without the abuse he'd get for being a hypocritical bastard given his age gap with Emily.

Kennedy watched Stephen's expression. 'Is this some kind of testosterone driven territorial thing?' she asked the watcher sardonically.

'Yes' Stephen replied deadpan. 'It's the only way I can deal with all the bloody oestrogen floating round the air in here' he declared then held out his hand to shake. 'Stephen Travers' he said.

'Greg Preston' the other man said taking and shaking the offered hand, 'So what's it like living in a house full of women?'

'Almost as bad as a hotel full but without the benefits of my own bathroom' Stephen replied. 'If you'll excuse me I was just making myself some lunch' he told him. 'See you around I'm sure' he told him and headed for the Kitchen.

'Take a seat Greg' Kennedy told him, 'help yourself to chips' she added pointing to the bowl on the table by the couch before following the watcher to the kitchen. Most of the girls were out either at the mall or had gone ice skating so the apartment was unusually empty and quiet.

Stephen went back to making the sandwich he'd started when the doorbell rang, it was nice not to have to fight his way in for once against a throng of girls each several times as strong as he was. 'Yes I know it's your place and I've only been here a few days' he said pre-empting Kennedy's comment as she caught up. 'Please don't berate me for being a man I can't help it' he joked spreading mustard over a piece of ham.

Kennedy chuckled. 'They say the first step is accepting you've got a problem' she told him.

'I've got lots of them, you're just the one in charge of the others' Stephen told her finishing assembling his sandwich, picking it up and taking a bite. That was more of a joke than anything, since he's arrived the watcher had played observer on several patrols and Kennedy and the other slayers had a very efficient operation going on here. They had the Cleveland Hellmouth well under control and had kept up their training regimen, staying fit and ready for action.

The slayer headed for the fridge and helped herself to a can of Dr Pepper. 'Oh come on' she said. 'Hellmouth watcher with all these slayers looking to you for advice, you're loving every minute of it' she told him, snapping open the ring-pull and taking a swig.

Stephen swallowed. 'It appeals to my oversized ego' he replied giving her a wink. 'Still feel out of my depth though' he admitted. It was a big step from being Giles junior sidekick at best to being a real field watcher largely left to his own devices.

'Welcome to my life when I got this gig' Kennedy told him. 'Go to Cleveland, by the way you're in charge try not to get anyone killed' she said with a wry smile. 'Well that was Buffy anyway, Faith just said "don't fuck up".'

'Easier to only be responsible for yourself' Stephen agreed. 'Well it's our calling isn't it?' he asked. 'Or duty perhaps?' he continued. 'Either way at least under the new order I'm just an advisor not the boss, if things do get monumentally fucked-up _you_ carry the can not me' he told her with a grin.

'Screw that D'Artagnon' Kennedy told him. 'I'm not being responsible for your mistakes too if that's what you're thinking' she declared.

Stephen put on a serious expression. 'Well if you want to delegate more authority to me….'

'Nice try' Kennedy told him. 'Me boss, you token male.'

'Got to love that affirmative action program' Stephen responded before taking another bite of his sandwich.

'I'd have preferred Emily, really get the girl power thing happening' Kennedy replied with a smile. 'Missing her?' she asked.

Stephen nodded. 'Got used to seeing her every day and it was nice' he replied after swallowing. 'I imagine you feel the same about Willow though of course you do still see her fairly frequently.'

'You're not going to be jealous because my girlfriend can teleport in and yours can't' Kennedy asked with a smile.

'Envious perhaps' Stephen replied.

Kennedy smirked. 'Not like you were getting any' she told him then laughed. 'Sorry' she apologised.

Stephen ignored the laughter at his expense. 'Well that is one saving grace' he agreed. 'Although I think my virginity might be coming back' he joked.

'You mean you're not?' Kennedy asked. 'Shit I bet you were, we've got a book running on it.'

'Ha Ha' Stephen responded wryly. 'I had a girlfriend my own age before Emily you know, she was in my year at the academy and we were both of age back home.'

'Oh' Shannon responded with a sudden look of concern. 'She was killed right?' she queried.

Stephen nodded. 'Along with all the rest of my friends and my father all on the same day' he replied. 'Not the greatest day ever.'

Kennedy went quiet for a little while. 'Did you love her?' she asked eventually.

'I remember I thought so at the time but I don't think I did now' Stephen replied, finishing off his sandwich and going to the fridge for a drink of his own, taking a can of coke from the choice available inside. 'I was too busy being chased by bloody Bringers and looking after the girls to grieve for her at the time, or anyone else for that matter' he told her then paused. 'I hope you don't think this sob-story is going to lead to a hug or some watcher-slayer bonding because firstly I'm British and secondly I've got a reputation to maintain.'

'What rep do you think you've got?' Kennedy asked her smile returning.

'Officious, occasionally obnoxious watcher bastard who likes to hit little girls with sticks during fencing practice' Stephen replied. 'It's all an act you know, well except for the hitting girls with sticks, I really get off on that' he deadpanned.

'Molly thought you were kinky' Kennedy told him.

'Now there was a girl who made a great sound when poked with a piece of bamboo' Stephen joked. 'I always suspected she harboured lustful thoughts about me too.'

'Jesus you really do have an oversized ego' Kennedy replied laughing.

'They only sent me here because they thought I'd be safe with the lesbian' Stephen told her then started laughing himself. 'But here we are flirting already.'

'In your dreams watcher-boy' Kennedy replied.

'Best not talk about those' the watcher responded with an exaggerated far-away smile plastered all over his face.

'You know you're not nearly the asshole you used to be' Kennedy told him honestly.

'You take that back' Stephen replied indignantly. 'I'm twice the arsehole I used to be, I've nurtured and cultivated it to the point it's become endearing, like Wesley and his apparent instability, Buffy and her delusions she's a great public speaker or Illyria and her musings on the positive side of brutal wars of conquest.'

'All right I give' Kennedy conceded, 'you're a full blooded limey watcher asshole.'

'And don't you forget it' Stephen told her. 'I know birth control isn't an issue for you but I hope Shannon and any of the others than might have a love life are being careful because if one of them gets knocked up by some smooth-talking twerp I guarantee Buffy will take it out on us two.'

'We could give them birth control pills mixed in with the vitamin supplements' Kennedy suggested.

'Excellent idea' Stephen agreed. 'Spoken like a tyrant, I can see why you do this job so well.'

'You know not only do I have a hellmouth, I've also got my own scythe and now a Giles of my very own too' Kennedy observed. 'I'm Buffy the next generation.'

'You'd have to start sleeping with vampires first to complete the picture' Stephen replied, 'I'm sure there's plenty of attractive female ones we could find for you.'

Kennedy pursed her lips. 'Not broody ones or peroxide blonds' she requested. 'You can take some things too far.'

'I'll make a note' Stephen told her. 'And if it's all the same I won't be wearing any tweed myself.'

'Deal' Kennedy agreed.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – February 2004**

Buffy led the small group down the basement steps. 'You'd think they'd have learned their lesson when we started striping them naked and throwing them out of cars in front of the Wolfram and Hart Office building whenever we caught them' she observed sadly.

'Maybe we should rough this one up' Faith suggested.

'Shave his head' Xander suggested.

'And his eyebrows' Dawn added brightly.

Buffy laughed. 'Dawn I like how you think' she told her sister, 'humiliating and really funny without being violent.'

Faith snorted. 'I don't reckon they'll take practical jokes as seriously as practically killing the guy.'

'Tell you what' Buffy responded. 'You can beat up the next one we catch and if that doesn't get the message across we'll let Illyria take the one after that and put his head on a pike outside the Hotel.'

'Hey people criticise but Smurfette gets results' Faith replied with a grin.

They found the prisoner on his knees, arms outstretched with a slayer holding each and a third sitting on a chair in front of him pointing a pump-action shotgun at him. If the prisoner had tried to struggle earlier he had evidently given up on the futility of it by now and was knelt their placidly looking less concerned about the shotgun than he actually felt.

The slayer with the shotgun got off the seat and offered it to Buffy who sat down. 'We found him half a block away on a roof with surveillance equipment' the slayer reported. 'As per standing instructions we grabbed him and bought him and the equipment with him back to base' she told Buffy.

'Good work' Buffy told her. 'All three of you' she told them. 'You'd think they'd have learned by now' she continued, shaking her head before pointing her index finger at the prisoner who was wearing normal civilian clothes. 'We don't like Wolfram and Hart people spying on us' she told him. 'Be grateful we don't usually kill humans because if we did we'd start throwing you off roofs instead of dragging you off them.'

The prisoner said nothing. He was in his late twenties, early thirties with close-cropped hair and a decent build, another one of the Law firms mercenary Special Ops people almost certainly Buffy decided.

'Strong silent type' Xander noted.

'You know if we pulled his eyebrow hairs off with tweezers instead of shaving them I bet he'd make a sound' Dawn suggested with a smirk.

'You're on form today Dawnster' Xander told her with a grin. 'Inspired I'd say.'

Buffy leaned forward so she was nose to nose with the prisoner. 'Look' she began, 'I know you're just doing your job but the people you work for are the lowest form of life, and I mean even lower than ordinary lawyers' she said, 'You guys _always _get caught and never learn anything from watching us anyway because the whole building is protected against all the electronic bugging stuff you've got and we've got wards to stop your seer and mystic types looking in too.'

'Hey be fair' Xander interrupted. 'That guy who could astrally project got in a couple of months back. Of course Willow magically bitchslapped him before he could do anything.'

'Ouch of Body Experience' Dawn joked. 'He had blood pouring out of his nose.'

'Now I've got to admit that was funny' Faith agreed. 'She made him visible and just after he made that crack about how we still couldn't touch him she punched him in the face' the slayer recalled with a laugh. 'I could slug this joker here if you want, give him the same treatment.'

'_No_ Faith' Buffy told her sternly.

'I never get to do anything fun anymore' Faith complained. 'Even the newbies get to patrol more than me' she moaned.

'Sorry about this' Buffy apologised to the prisoner, 'we're not always this infantile, of course the fact we're kicking your teams ass proves that one' she added smugly.

Xander wandered over to the pile of confiscated equipment. Maybe Fred or Knox would get some use out of this junk he thought? They had already used previous items of seized Wolfram and Hart surveillance gear to upgrade that homemade UAV which was buzzing around Pylea, taking pictures and baiting dragons.

'You know you might as well say hello or something' Buffy told the prisoner, 'or maybe swear we'll never get you to talk' she suggested. 'We could you know, get you to talk I mean, but you won't know anything we don't already know or is worth hearing so we won't be getting out the thumbscrews and rubber hoses.'

'We'll be offering him a tasty beverage while he waits next' Faith muttered. 'Oh come on B we could have played good-cop, bad cop for a few minutes or something' she said more loudly. 'You haven't even got that chair turned backwards like you're supposed to.'

'I was thinking that too' Xander interjected. 'Hey if you ever want to see it done right me and Anya were great at that, the good cop, bad cop thing I mean'

'Probably all the roll play they do it the bedroom' Faith observed. 'We all know why Anya got you that Viking helmet' she told him.

Xander was on the verge of a snappy reply when his eyes locked on something amongst the equipment and his jaw dropped. 'Oh shit' he swore and picked it up. 'Buffy take a look at this' he said showing it to her.

Buffy groaned. 'Oh yeah that's _all_ we needed' she said.

'What is it?' the slayer with the shotgun asked.

'Electronic Stun Gun' Xander explained. 'DRI issue' he added.

'Demon Research Initiative' Buffy explained, 'the government' she added.

Xander shrugged. 'Could have been worse' he sad. 'Better the DRI than the IRS.'

Buffy thought about that one. 'Fair point' she agreed.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This fanfic runs on reviews_


	7. Chapter 7

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – February 2004**

They'd moved the prisoner from the basement to the more salubrious environment of the dining room, he remained silent but he seemed to relax when they stopped pointing a shotgun at him which was understandable. He still wasn't going anywhere, he was under guard but they were being much nicer about it now.

'So who's this?' Andrew queried, bringing out a plate of fresh doughnuts from the kitchen.

'Government' Xander answered taking one of the doughnuts for himself and taking a bite. 'Help yourself' he told the agent, 'we can get you a cup of coffee or a can of soda if you like?' he offered.

'So more of a guestage than a hostage' Andrew noted. 'Is he staying for dinner?' he asked Xander. 'How do you like your steak?' he asked the agent, getting a small notepad and a pencil out of his pocket to record his preference.

The Initiative guy looked more than a little surprised at the hospitality but still remained closed lipped and professional. Andrew waited for a few seconds until he realised he wasn't going to get an answer and sighed. 'I'll cook it medium' he said. 'Now don't fill up on doughnuts' he told Xander and the two slayers with him who had also by now reached over to snag some.

'Yes Mom' Xander responded with a grin. The fact was Andrew was a much better cook than she'd ever been.

Buffy walked in with Knox following holding a walkie-talkie which the agent had with him when captured. She had dragged him off the project he was working on to develop a portal generator using the key from Jasmine's old world which annoyed him but Illyria had told him he had to do what the senior slayer instructed and he wasn't bout to disobey his God. 'Seen these before' Knox told Buffy. 'Government issue, encrypted signal almost impossible to intercept and decode and you have to punch in a numerical sequence before you can even use it, which we don't have of course' he told her.

The government agent smirked slightly.

'Nowhere near as good as the ones we've started using of course' Knox continued. 'I hacked right in using my PDA, good security though, took nearly a minute to run through all the variables' he told Buffy. 'Just press the transmit button there, it's ready to go' he instructed he, indicating the right one as he passed it over to her.

The agents eyes widened and his face fell causing Xander to grin in response. 'Hey man don't sweat it' Xander told him, 'You just don't have our calibre of geeks on the payroll, nothing to be ashamed of using second rate equipment' he continued, unable to resist smirking himself.

Buffy held the radio to the side of her head and pressed the transmit button. 'I guess there's someone from the Initiative listening' she began, 'we've got your spy guy here and if you want to come and collect him that's fine but we'd like to talk about stuff first' she said. 'For a start we might have accidentally hurt him and we wouldn't want a misunderstanding to blow up into something serious' she continued. 'Just walk in the front door, you can come armed if you're worried it's a trick, we won't mind' she offered then released the transmit button, offering the radio to the agent. 'They'd probably like to know you're okay' she told him, 'I would if somebody ever captured one of my people' she told him.

The agent looked at the radio for a second then took it from her. 'This is Unit Seven' he said, 'I am unharmed but being held against my will.'

'Oh come on that makes us sound like we threatened you with anything other than cholesterol' Xander interjected. 'He's sitting here surrounded by good looking girls and with a plate of doughnuts in front of him, we're not running Camp X-Ray here' he said loudly. 'Quick, send in the Marines and save him before we offer him a back rub and a glass of brandy' he said putting on a deep and dramatic tone of voice. 'You need to rescue the man before he faces the horrors of the jelly filling, all it takes is a few good men' he declared.

'_Unit Seven what's going on, over_' the radio squawked.

The agent grimaced. 'I'm being detained by some girls and a smart-ass' he replied into the walkie talkie whilst glaring at Xander. 'Do not consider my life in jeopardy but they are aware of the existence of the Initiative and the girls are HST level strong. Over' he stated.

After a few seconds another voice emerged from the radio. '_Buffy_?' it said. '_Is that you_? _Over_' it asked.

Buffy sighed and held out her hand to take back the radio which the agent returned. 'Riley' she began. 'Get your ass down here and pick up this guy before we stick him in a cab with a few bucks for the fare because I'll put in a claim to get the money back from the Department of Defence and that'll look really bad on your service record' she told him.

Xander waved at her then spelled out a short word in the air.

'Oh and if Sam's there bring her around, always good to catch up with people you haven't seen for a while when they're in town' Buffy added.

Xander pointed at Buffy. 'She used to date him' he told the agent. 'I just used to watch sports with the guy sometimes' he added.

'_I'll be there in twenty minutes depending on traffic. Over and Out_' the radio announced. Riley sounded more than a little annoyed Buffy noted.

'You know sending someone to spy on your ex could be considered stalking' Xander joked.

Buffy shrugged. 'He sounded surprised it was me' she replied.

'That's the problem with these Black Ops types' Xander observed, 'they always expect some dark conspiracy so they never just walk up, knock and ask what's going on if they can play ninja and spy on you with zoom lenses and directional microphones instead' he continued.

'And when you catch them doing something cloak and dagger in full uniform they try and tell you they've been playing paintball' Buffy replied with a chuckle.

The agent looked from Buffy to Xander and shook his head sadly, he was pretty convinced by now he was in less than mortal danger. 'If I have to stay here until Major Finn arrives can someone tell the little chef dude to cook my steak medium-rare?' he asked.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – February 2004**

'Well they can't shoot for shit but they _love_ bayonet practice' Ashton observed as another batch of recruits yelled a battle cry and went charging full tilt towards a line of sandbags hanging from trees. Reaching their objective and using their own momentum to drive in the blade they slammed the bayonets on the end of their unloaded Kalashnikovs through the coarse material, spilling another trickle of sand into the dirt.

Wesley nodded. 'Swords and spears have been the order of the day here since time immemorial' he replied. 'Some of the demon clans think using a crossbow is beneath them let alone a firearm.'

The mercenary scratched his chin and then spat on the ground, he'd tried some local food earlier and it had an aftertaste that just wasn't going away. 'The bayonet has it's place' he remarked, 'I've seen crowds dispersed and militia rabble run away by just fixing them and looking like you mean it, but it's usually a last resort' he stated. 'We need these bastards to get used to the idea that their job is to shoot the enemy, and ideally without giving him the opportunity to ever fight back.'

'I'm having a tough job convincing them of that' Wesley responded with a wry smile. 'To be honest Groo isn't helping much there' he added. 'A lot of what we might consider good military tactics and common sense seems like cheating and unchivalrous conduct to the locals.'

Ashton sighed. 'It's not the fucking Dark Ages' he said, before looking around at the clothes some of the people in camp were wearing, many of them refugees in barely more than rags. 'Okay maybe it is' he admitted, 'but we don't have the numbers to fuck around playing Ivanhoe.'

'The human recruits are doing a lot better than the demons' Wesley pointed out.

'Less problems with being told what to do by our people' Ashton replied, 'plus they like the idea that the guns put them on a level playing field' he continued. 'We've got a lot of racial tension going on, we used to be nearly all human around here but you liberating that camp and bringing them back here bought some serious issues up, I've broken up a few fights myself and so have the girls. Not surprising I suppose, people back home kill each other over that shit and it's a lot easier to tell a Human from a Deathwok than a Tutsi from a Hutu, or Perković there from a really tall Serbian guy.'

'Or a Canuck from a Yank' Wesley added with a smile.

'Hey the only thing we've got in common is we've both got a country with a lower standard of living south of the border' Ashton snapped back with a grin. 'And we haven't had to kick their ass in nearly two hundred years. Guessed they learned their lesson in the War of 1812 eh?'

Wesley laughed then his put on a more serious expression. 'None of the girls went home then?' he noted.

The mercenary shook his head. 'Once they had a couple of days to get over it they were okay' he said. 'Course it took a few of them that long to get rid of the hangover.'

'I hope you haven't caused any of them to develop a drink problem' Wesley replied with a half smile.

'Not with _my_ scotch they fucking won't' Ashton told him seriously. 'And I bet half of them won't touch a drop again in years' he said then took a deep breath. 'HEY JAILBAIT' he hollered. 'Five more minutes bayonet practice then get these maggots up to the firing range' he told the slayer who was leading the drill. 'Janko is up there already, he can drill them' he added. The slayer blushed intensely and then gave him a thumbs up.

Wesley crossed his arms. 'That's the second time I've heard you call Charlotte that today' he said quietly. 'What's the story?' he asked.

The mercenary chuckled. 'After we finished off the bottles I was willing to part with I got back to my tent and found her stark naked in my sleeping bag drunk out of her skull and saying she really liked me.'

'You didn't?' Wesley asked nervously.

'I left her there and slept outside' Ashton told him. 'I was either too sober to take advantage or too drunk to do anything about it, I'll let you make your mind up which' he joked. 'Well she got a nickname out of it anyhow.'

'You know a gentleman would have spared her blushes as well as her honour and wouldn't be reminding her of the event' Wesley chided.

Ashton snorted. 'I fight other peoples wars for money' he retorted, 'not screwing her is as close to gentlemanly as it gets.'

Wesley thought that over. 'Well we're not paying you to act as an example of moral rectitude and decorum I suppose' he admitted.

'I carry a rifle, blow shit up and yell at people' the mercenary said. 'If you want more we can renegotiate my contract' he continued. 'Another few hundred a week and I'll teach 'em good table manners and the waltz' he offered tongue-in-cheek.

'Your current three specialties are just fine for now thank you' Wesley told him. 'I'll see you later I've got to see Lorne and find out how his spy network is going' he said and headed off across the expanding campsite.

It seemed like dozens more arrived every day Wesley thought as he made his way across the clearing in the centre of the village of tents and quickly assembled and extremely rough shacks. Vi and half the slayers were out running raids and sabotage missions leaving the mercenaries to oversee the training regime. More and more volunteered to fight and they were now using some of those who had been in training longest in the role of non-commissioned officers, raising them to corporal or sergeant rank and putting them in charge of others. They didn't want to commit any of them into action for a while yet, a week or twos additional training would prevent casualties and raise their effectiveness, but they were starting to shape up nicely and with automatic rifles in their hands they'd be another nasty surprise for the occupation. Their weren't enough slayers to hit any more than a tiny minority of the available targets but once hundreds of AK-47 toting guerrillas started roaming the forests and swamps of Pylea, Sebassis demon legions would start rueing the day they portalled in to this particular hell dimension.

As he passed a small hut Wesley was accosted by an old woman who threw herself to the ground on her knees in front of him, took his hand and kissed them. He cringed with embarrassment and told her to get to her feet which she did immediately, tears streaming down her cheeks. She told him her grandson was awake again, his fever was gone and she thanked him for using his magic to save the boy. Wesley tried to explain that all he'd done the night before was inject him with a hefty shot of penicillin from supplies and there was no magic involved at all, only science but they just weren't buying it. It _must_ be magic, like the tiny white pills that took away pain, the goggles that could make you see in the dark and all the other wonders the off-worlders had bought with them. Eventually Wesley gave up trying and told her if the boy's condition did turn for the worse again to tell one of the girls and they'd give him more of the "magic" medicine.

Still at least it was less awkward than when one of the locals had asked if he and Vi were in kye-rumption or they were just involved in activities related with something that translated into English as hedgehog.

With Vi too mortified to reply an extremely flustered Wesley had explained he only com-shukked the woman with the blue hair that appeared in camp sometimes and that ended the matter.

Well except for the guy that started bringing Vi flowers anyhow.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – February 2004**

'As far as I know he's still down in the dining room finishing dinner' Buffy answered dropping into a chair across from Riley in the conference room with them being the only ones there. 'So how's the secret government agency business?' she asked.

Major Riley Finn narrowed his eyes. 'What in God's name is going on Buffy?' he asked forthrightly ignoring her question as he had done with the prior one concerning where his wife was.

'Care to be more specific?' Buffy asked him.

Riley crossed his arms and looked stern, the scar on his face helping that a lot. 'We've been receiving wild stories about demons getting massacred right across the US for months' he said. 'I got pulled off my last assignment to look into it because everyone else drew a total blank and when the shaman working with us finally locates the place that seems to be the centre of it all what do I find but you.'

'You were expecting maybe Van Helsing?' Buffy asked with a chuckle.

'I've got people back at the Department of Defence who think there's some kind of terrorist conspiracy going on and they even tried tracking the people who they thought were involved but they kept losing them. They just kept damn well disappearing' he continued, 'half my superiors are starting to think it's just a weird coincidence.'

'Ah yeah' Buffy responded with a slight shrug, 'we've got these symbols we found out, like runes you know' she said, 'well with those plus some spells my people can just vanish' she told him. 'Well not literally but you can't pick them up with electronic surveillance gear or magic either so if they think they're being followed they're under orders to use them' she continued. 'It's usually the Police but I guess sometimes it was your people instead.'

Riley frowned. 'What do you mean by your people anyhow?' he asked.

'Slayers' Buffy replied. 'Plural' she continued. '_Really_ plural' she added.

'I thought there were only two of you?' Riley asked. 'You and Faith?' he queried.

Buffy smiled. 'New rules' she replied. 'We estimate about two thousand now, most of whom should be on the payroll by the end of the year' she told him. Illyria had told her this was slightly higher than in the original timeline, probably because they'd killed off so many more bringers who had been hunting potentials, and that they were getting much better success at recruiting them, likely because of better funding. With hundreds of millions of dollars available, and the sum increasing faster than they could spend it, they could offer a very attractive salary as well as appealing to the girl's sense of public duty.

'Two thousand slayers' Riley repeated slowly. 'You're kidding?' he asked.

'No' Buffy replied honestly, 'we've only got a few hundred trained and in the field so far though' she admitted.

Riley shook his head. 'Would I be right in assuming you had something to do with Sunnydale falling into a sinkhole?' he asked rhetorically.

'Yeah' Buffy admitted, wincing slightly, 'we needed to collapse the Hellmouth to stop another apocalypse but we made sure nobody was there first' Buffy told him. 'We even warned people who we wouldn't have minded falling in with the town' she continued. 'Illyria said something about it causing trouble later if we didn't, she didn't specify what she meant by that and there was no point pressing her on it so we didn't.'

'Who's Illyria?' Riley asked.

'I am Illyria' a slender woman with blue streaks in her hair and wearing a light cotton dress declared striding into the room. 'You are from the government' she said. 'I have already taken steps to prevent you interfering with our mission, do not get involved in matters that are not your concern and do not attempt to make hostile moves against us, you are ill-equipped for the task.'

Buffy grimaced. 'Like she says this is Illyria' she told Riley. 'I wish I could say this was unusually rude for her but it's not.'

'One of your new slayers?' Riley asked.

'No she's a God' Buffy replied with a shrug, there was little point in prevaricating about it.

'He looks unconvinced' Illyria noted. 'I would demonstrate but I have just utilised my powers more than I would normally care to and the shell is barely stable' she stated then address Riley directly. 'My minion Knox detected your orders to freeze our financial assets through our hacks into what you laughably think of as your secure military communications system' she told him. 'You will unfreeze them and never do so again or I will retaliate in a more extreme manner next time' she told him.

'You froze our assets' Buffy responded glaring at Riley.

'Only the minority they could locate' Illyria told her. 'No more than fifty million or so, but it is the principle that is at stake.'

Riley straightened up in his chair. 'The United States Government is not going to sit idly by while a bunch of rank amateurs run around like supernatural vigilantes' he declared. 'I'm sure we could find a place for some of your personnel in our organisation, Lord knows I appreciate what a slayer can do, but now I know the full story the little crusade you've got running from here is over' he declared.

'You know barely a fraction of the full story and should be grateful good relations with your superiors are in our best interests' Illyria responded curtly, 'or else I would consider teaching you all a lesson in what the term superpower really means and it has very little to do with Carrier Battle Groups' she declared.

Buffy mouthed an obscenity. 'Look Riley' she began, 'you don't know what you've got yourself involved in here but trust me, you and the people you work for are in way over your heads' she told him. 'We're not playing the game at your level, to you and your superiors something like the mess over in Iraq is a big deal' she said, '_we're _gearing up for a war that isn't even confined to this _dimension_.'

'It is unlikely he will listen or see reason but I have already provided a demonstration that should make them more willing to take us seriously' Illyria stated.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. 'I know I don't really want to know but what have you _done_ Illyria?' she asked.

The God-King smiled. 'They froze our assets so in a more literal way I froze theirs' she replied cryptically.

Riley rolled his eyes. 'You can't freeze the assets of the United States Government' he retorted.

'Not only can you, I in fact did so' Illyria replied smugly, 'or at least a substantial portion of them' she continued. 'I always expected this situation to happen eventually so I made plans and visited the location previously to make sure I could portal in to exactly the right point when required.'

'Spill it Blue' Buffy told her. 'I can tell you're just itching to do it' she said. Illyria was an egomaniac and enjoyed this kind of thing immensely.

Illyria grinned. 'As soon as _my_ Knox informed me of the Governments actions I portalled to _Fort_ Knox in Kentucky, disabled the vault guards and opened another portal directly under a large quantity of bullion' she declared. 'I was forced to utilise ten CC's of Dawns blood from the stockpile to open a sufficiently large portal' she added, 'I did not wish to risk using more in order to remove the entire stockpile.'

Buffy groaned as the God-King started to look even more pleased with herself and smirked at Riley. 'If you want me to tell you where in Antarctica approximately five hundred tons of US gold bullion is currently laying in the snow you will unfreeze our accounts immediately' she told him. 'And if you _ever_ cross us again I'll dump the next load into the Marianas Trench and let you try and recover it from the bottom of the Pacific Ocean' she told him.

Buffy dropped her face into her hands as Riley stared at Illyria in shock.

'Your move G-Man' Illyria told him.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This Fanfic runs on reviews (and I apologise for the Knox-Knox joke :-D )_


	8. Chapter 8

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – February 2004**

Gunn rubbed his palms backwards over his shaven head and breathed out slowly. 'Didn't think I'd ever be in trouble with the Federal Government' he said, barely able to come to terms with the new situation. 'LAPD sure but not the DOD, CIA and whoever the hell else is probably watching us now.'

Cordelia looked around the room, all the original Sunnydale crew were there as were the Angel Investigations crew minus Wesley who was still in Pylea and thus blissfully unaware of what was happening back home Ignorance really is bliss Cordelia thought to herself feeling a migraine coming on that might reach the heights of her old pre-demon vision days. 'This is all your fault' she told Illyria accusingly, 'why can't you just play nice with people' she asked angrily.

'I _did_ play nice' Illyria replied evenly. 'I caused no mortal injuries and as soon as they unfroze our accounts I told them exactly where I dumped their gold bullion' she pointed out. 'They initiated the conflict, I merely pre-empted its escalation' Illyria argued. 'In the original timeline things were allowed to get badly out of hand and that was another grievous mistake I sought to rectify here' she told the group. 'As always my actions are determined by a desire to not repeat the errors I witnessed before.'

'Give Blue her due' Spike rhymed. 'She didn't bite off more than she could chew.'

'And the reason William Pratt is not talked about in the Pantheon of English poets with William's Wordsworth and Butler Yeats becomes evident' Angel told him.

'To which scorn I reply; "screw you",' Spike responded gleefully. Got him again, hook line and sinker he thought happily. The two of them had originally planned to be off finding Drusilla but their departure had been delayed by the government intrusion so now they were going tomorrow instead. One of the teams fleet of vehicles was now fitted with necro-tempered glass so they could travel in daylight which would be an experience in itself but Spike had already been planning to amuse himself on the road-trip by trying to send Angel as loopy as Dru.

Faith swallowed the handful of peanuts she'd just thrown into her mouth and looked around. 'I'd just like to say that once again Blue didn't make with the info and everyone except her is out of the loop' she said. 'Oh yeah it was real funny when I got turned into a fucking Sesame Street extra but you're not laughing now are ya?' she asked, reaching for a glass of water to wash down the peanuts.

'But couldn't you have tried something less drastic than stealing a gazillion dollars worth of gold bars?' Willow asked, reasonably she thought.

'I did not _steal_ anything, I merely relocated it' Illyria corrected her. 'They needed a demonstration of power and got one in a manner that would get their full attention' she declared. 'By now they will have realised that I could have done far worse' she told the group, 'it would have been _easier _in fact for me to have assassinated their entire military or civilian leadership than what I actually _did_ do' Illyria noted. 'Security camera footage from Fort Knox will demonstrate not only my ability to open portals but also my strength, speed and resilience' the God-King continued. 'They will be extremely cautious in their dealings with us and we will at least not have to contend with having our personnel seized and detained for fear of retaliation in kind.'

Buffy couldn't resist a wry smile. 'Before Riley left Illyria told him if they kidnapped any of our people the next time the government had to announce Vice President Cheney was in a "undisclosed location" it would be because the only people who knew where he was would be us.'

'They would find it difficult to retrieve him from Vahla ha'nesh' Illyria interjected, 'and he would at least have Ben on hand if medical assistance was required' she added, having considered that a possible issue.

'I'm surprised you didn't threaten to terminate George Bush' Angel declared, sitting in his chair, arms crossed.

'Threatening the President in that fashion would be a criminal offence' Illyria told him.

'You're kidding' Xander exclaimed. 'You're worried about breaking the _law_?' he asked incredulously.

Illyria shook her head. 'It would be more accurate to say I am trying to minimise the number I am compelled to break' she responded. 'There are in fact very few rational reasons for conflict between ourselves and your government and I see no benefit in increasing them' she stated. 'Most of the problem is caused by their desire for a monopoly of power, which is understandable though short-sighted, and a degree of paranoia in your society which seems to have been badly exacerbated by the World Trade Centre attacks' she said then paused. 'I did however offer them an olive branch which may help relations and lead to an eventual rapprochement between us.'

Buffy chuckled. 'You'll love this' she told them. 'She offered to sabotage North Korea's missile and atomic weapons programs. I was expecting her to say she'd bring them Osama Bin Ladens's head in a box next' she added, shaking her head sadly.

'I don't know where he is' Illyria responded apologetically, it would have made a valuable and welcome peace offering. 'You may baulk at assassinating humans but I have no particular issues with it' she told Buffy. 'I do not kill them without major provocation because I have agreed not to do so and it helps me in my relations with yourselves, but I am _not_ foolish enough to apply an absolute such as no killing of members of your species regardless of circumstances' she declared. 'In any case with my own abilities, and the shells knowledge of physics and engineering, I could easily infiltrate North Korea and make the failures look like accidents and design flaws rather than espionage. It is not difficult to ensure a long-range missile will fail in flight or an atomic test does not achieve its designed yield.'

Willow frowned. 'I don't think we should be getting involved in politics like this' she opined.

'Nobody is asking you to' Illyria replied. 'You may freely maintain your noble façade of an ideologically pure mission if you wish' she told her. '_I_ will make sure that the politics does not get involved with _you_' the God-King declared.

'This all seems very well planned out' Angel observed sardonically. You often got the distinct impression that you were being played like a puppet by Illyria and conversations such as this helped confirm the suspicion. She was a God-King with a plan and she knew too damn much for comfort.

'Of course' Illyria replied. 'It was extremely likely this situation would arise and I long ago determined a course of action to respond to it.'

'Surprised you didn't arrange a takeover of the government' Cordelia said sarcastically.

'I do have a workable plan for achieving that if necessary' Illyria responded. 'It would involve using a magical device similar to the one used to swap the consciousness of Buffy and Faith, I simply portal in a volunteer to the White House who then swaps bodies with the Commander in Chief' she explained dispassionately. 'Knox is sourcing such a device through his contacts just in case.'

'Holy shit' Gunn exclaimed. 'Even Wolfram Hart were only trying to get the demon Senator bitch re-elected' he noted. 'Blue here trumps that easy.'

'My contingency plan for if I ever need to mobilise NATO to deal with a full scale demonic invasion is more inventive' Illyria told him appreciating what she took for praise. 'You people have never really considered some of the things you could achieve if you thought outside the box' she told them. 'When I say you think small it's more than merely the megalomania you ascribe it too' she continued. 'While you worry about the minor problems I have been gradually formulating solutions to the major ones.'

Buffy stared at her. 'You're not being serious?' she asked. 'It's the Napoleon Complex writ large' she said remembering her psych courses, 'delusions of godhood.'

'I _am_ a God' Illyria replied with clear amusement written across her face at Buffy's amateur psychology. 'My sanity is only in question if you anthropomorphise me' she told the slayer. 'Do not let the shell fool you, I am not human and neither do I aspire to be' she reminded her.

'Okay hotshot' Xander declared deciding to test her. 'World War Three breaks out and the missiles are flying' he said. 'What do you do?'

'Assuming even minimal time to prepare, portal sand or other debris into Low Earth Orbit to form a cloud that would smash the warheads en-route' Illyria told him. 'I could not guarantee full success if it was a full scale exchange but it would certainly reduce the death toll significantly.'

'Creative' Fred told her. Feed her enough of Dawn's blood, they had started to refer to it as D-Juice with the D standing for either Dawn or Dimension, and Illyria could instantly portal more payload into space than a hundred space shuttles could manage in a year. It wasn't exactly high-tech SDI stuff but it would get the job done.

Illyria leaned back in her chair. 'It is a pity that the shell is still too unstable to permit large-scale use of your sister's plasma as a power source' she told Buffy. 'I could achieve great things if I were not so weak.'

Buffy narrowed her eyes. She was going to definitely be having words with Fred about how she was getting on with making that Mutari Generator gadget for depowering Glory. One day they might very well be needing it for bringing Smurfette down to a more manageable level too.

Needless to say Illyria already had plans to deal with that eventuality. In her preferred one Buffy got to live as it happens but life didn't always turn out completely for the best, even if you _were _intent on screwing with destiny like the universe was your bitch.

It would likely take the government a while to collect themselves, Illyria considered, the situation was too far outside of their experience, and in the meantime there was still a war to fight and the voluntary era was drawing to a close, it was time to start conscripting people when required and Drusilla was merely the first on the list. Once she was recovered and they had a seer on the staff it was time to expand the magically gifted contingent, Willow was overburdened with work, and they needed to draft themselves another powerful witch to bear some of the load.

The Shaper of Things fully expected Amy Madison to be a reluctant team member but she was confident she could be talked, or if necessary pummelled, into service.

**Great Russell Street – London – February 2004**

Roger Wyndham-Pryce looked at the slayer in surprise. Not only had she been correct in her answer, when he checked the latest addition of the slayer handbook she had quoted the relevant passages back to him almost verbatim. 'Very impressive' he told the girl who smiled in response. They had decided that she as the assigned senior slayer, and himself as head watcher here would meet regularly to discuss issues that may arise although he saw it as also an opportunity to test her knowledge of the craft.

'I was always good at the book stuff' Molly replied.

'And the physical it seems judging by my observations of your sparring with the other girls' Wyndham-Pryce noted.

Molly shrugged. 'Most of them weren't in watcher training before they got activated' she pointed out. 'I've just got more experience and the time I spent training with Buffy and Spike before too many other potentials turned up in Sunnydale helped a lot' she added.

'Yes I imagine that having a vampire with a history of killing slayers teach you how he did it would have a certain utility in terms of teaching you counters to such moves' Wyndham-Pryce replied evenly. There was some logic there but it remained a distasteful notion in the extreme he thought. As of Molly, despite her outlandish mode of dress she was in fact extremely bright and conscientious he had been happy to learn and at least she was English thank God albeit of a working class background unfortunately.

'They've asked me to help write the next edition of the handbook as it 'appens' Molly told him. 'It's going to be a total revision' she continued. 'New chapters on using small unit tactics and firearms too' she told him. 'I'm dead chuffed' she said proudly.

Ignoring her appalling grammar and slang Wyndham-Pryce nodded. 'A worthy choice I'm sure' he told her. Her written reports were in fact truly top-notch, he had been surprised to find that the new slayers actually operated a far more organised and comprehensive reporting system that the Watchers Council ever used, with each girl submitting a detailed report on every mission or patrol they went on which was then entered on a secure database linked back to a central server in Los Angeles. It didn't really fit in with his pre-conceived notions that under Buffy Summers leadership everything would be slapdash, in fact in many ways the Council itself had been slapdash and archaic by comparison. Supposedly the Knox character that worshipped Illyria was designing a secure PDA for each slayer to carry which contained the handbook in electronic form and could download and display species data on every known demon type in a few seconds. Such a gadget would help alleviate the problem of watcher shortages apparently but knowledge was no substitute for wisdom Roger Wyndham-Pryce considered of the idea doubtfully.

'Paris next week?' he asked the slayer.

'Just for a few days to put the fear of God and pointy sticks into the Froggy Vampire community' Molly told him. 'We've already put the locals in their place so I reckon its time to start clearing out the continent.'

Roger Wyndham-Pryce nodded his agreement, operating in teams of three the nine European born slayers who had come over from America had carved their way through the vampire and demon community of London and the Home Counties in a veritable blitzkrieg since their arrival. More slayers were due to arrive next month as they completed field training and plans were being made for sub-offices in Paris and Berlin and a full-sized one in Rome intended in part to make sure that the Wolfram and Hart offices there were kept nicely in check. The budgetary situation was simply unprecedented, once liberated from the legal limbo they had been in after the bombing of this very building the liquid assets of the old Council had been handed over to the people in Los Angeles and the investment returns on their ever expanding portfolio was simply ludicrous. After asking for a sum of petty-cash to be arranged for covering unexpected expenses to be kept at the office, a safe had been promptly purchased and delivered and then stocked with the equivalent of half a million US Dollars in _both_ Pounds Sterling and Euro Banknotes. Wyndham-Pryce had only been expecting a cash-tin with a couple of hundred pounds in it at best and assuming it was a mistake contacted that rude but efficient Anya person who then got completely the wrong end of the stick and told him if he needed a larger sum she would have to get Buffy to sign off on the transfer of funds because she was only personally authorised up to a million "bucks" herself. In the end he gave up and in an unusual display of exuberance took a few pounds from the safe to buy doughnuts and pastries for the secretarial staff.

Dealing with the odious chap who turned up two days ago saying he was the European Distributor for somebody named "Emil" and do they need to put in an order had been more distasteful. That the man was clearly a criminal was obvious simply from looking at him and Wyndham-Pryce had been about to tell him to leave before he called the Police when Molly arrived and gave him a list of highly illegal military hardware which they would like to be imported. The circles they dealt with now were simply abhorrent and he wasn't going to be seduced into accepting them by mere money and success. It wasn't just winning that counted, it was the way you played the game that mattered, and this whole business once again sank of the corruption being wrought by the influence of the foul Illyria who having successfully robbed his own son of both his senses and dignity was now seducing the Council itself. It was an obscene Siren that sang to them with promises of money, power and success and he needed to be on his guard else he might be tainted as well.

Despite it all he couldn't help but like his new furniture though, the special chair was very good for his back and the heavy oak desk far more imposing than the one Quentin Travers had when it was his office.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – February 2004**

It was just another hit and run raid for the first five minutes once they got into position and prepared to launch an assault on the fortified camp which the occupation forces had placed on the crossroads in order to control travel and trade between two of the larger towns, a small tin mine to the west and the big agricultural area to the south. Demons from Sebassis Army inspected passing traffic and seemed ill prepared to fight.

As such things tend to develop if they've been properly prepared the first thing the slayers knew about the ambush was when a burst of fire from a concealed position among some rocks cut across the path of one of the girls as she moved for a better view of the camp and sent her spiralling away in a splash of her own blood as three bullets caught her in the torso and punched straight through both her camouflage jacket and the chain-mail vest she was wearing underneath. The mesh of tiny steel links would stop the slashing cut of a sword but they wouldn't do much to stop a supersonic piece of copper-jacketed lead and she hit the ground hard starting to cough up her own blood thanks to a hole in her right lung.

No sooner was the first slayer felled then a storm of gunfire opened up from several directions. The Wolfram and Hart mercenaries sent to Pylea only numbered a few dozen so far and they couldn't be deployed to more than a handful of locations because if they divided into too small a set of teams they'd be badly outnumbered on the ground by the slayers so they had set up in a few key spots and waited for the girls to get around to attacking one of the places they were guarding.

Garrison duty however was boring and tended to make you sloppy which is why one of them had fired early after three weeks sitting around doing absolutely nothing. They couldn't even practice their shooting because the noise it would make would give away the secret and they weren't as sharp as they were when they first arrived thinking they might be going into action straight away. Still they were well trained and experienced and unlike the rabble the slayers had been fighting until now they were properly armed with automatic firearms not swords and clubs.

It was fully expected that the slayers would panic at the first taste of gunfire and they would either run or fight back inexpertly being untrained and untested in such a situation and the Wolfram and Hart troops dug in around the area in concealed bunkers and trenches were confident of success and earning their bonuses. They might even get to have some fun with any prisoners they took, after juicing them up with something to subdue them of course, you wouldn't want to try screwing an unwilling slayer otherwise, if she got the chance she was strong enough to snap your neck like a twig.

There was however a few factors in play that the Wolfram and Hart mercenaries were unaware of. Firstly some of the slayers _had_ been shot at before, they had been involved with the LA gunbattles with the vampire gangs six months ago and it therefore wasn't a whole new experience to them and they knew keeping your head in a firefight was more likely to keep you alive than anything else, secondly slayers move a lot faster than ordinary people and they dove and got into cover quicker than might have been expected of them and thirdly they weren't the only mercenaries in the field.

'Bella's hit' one of the girls yelled.

'What the fuck is going on' another screamed. 'They're shooting at us. Since when did demons carry guns? Who are they?' she yammered.

'All of you shut the fuck up and do exactly what I tell you' Ashton bellowed into his microphone headset. 'Whoever they are they fucked up because they should have killed half of us in the first volley but they didn't so they're fucking crap and we're _not_' he told them in a clear unwavering voice. 'We're okay where we are, trees and undergrowth for cover and we're not surrounded' he told them. 'Not only are we going to get out of this we are going to kill each and every one of those motherfuckers' he promised.

'But they're shooting at us' one of the girls moaned as bullets flew past her head.

'So fucking well shoot back' Ashton responded, some of the girls were already doing exactly that and it was a good thing they all had radio earpieces in their left ear or nobody would be able to hear him over the rifle reports. 'All of you do _exactly_ what I say, and when I say it or you will _die_, do you understand?' he asked. 'DO YOU UNDERSTAND?' he bellowed.

'YES CAPORAL-CHEF' the slayers yelled back, their voices ringing out above the gunfire, the enemies and their own.

'That's better' he told them. 'Now keep you heads down but look around to see if there's a better position you can get to and when I tell you get there as fast as you fucking can and keeping as low as you fucking can' he ordered. 'Anyone that doesn't have anywhere else to go I just want you to fire off a full clip towards those bastards and don't worry too much about aiming just spray and pray' he said with a calmness that somehow helped take the edge off the situation. They all knew the mercenary knew his job, hell he'd probably been shot at hundreds of times and he wasn't dead, he'd get them out of this they started to believe.

'I think Bella's dead' she's stopped moving. One of the girls announced.

'Janko' Ashton said. 'How you doing?' he asked seemingly ignoring her.

'Nearly got one in my sights' the Croatian mercenary replied emotionlessly, lining up his shot. He had been moving around himself ever since the shooting started, Ashton hadn't even bothered to ask, he knew what his friend would be doing.

'When you do blow his fucking head off for Bella' Ashton told him. A second later the crack of Perković's sniper rifle could be heard over the other shooting.

'Done' the Croatian said evenly.

'Alright girls here we go' Ashton said. 'We're going to kill them because they're trying to kill us and I'm _not_ dying on this fucking planet and I'm _definitely_ not getting taking prisoner and ending up getting chopped up for demon food' he declared.

'Fuck that' one of the slayers responded, clutching her rifle like a talisman.

'Kill 'em all' another said.

Ashton inwardly smiled, that's what they needed to get them through this he thought. 'WHAT MAKES THE GRASS GROW?' the mercenary howled.

'BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD' the girls bellowed back. Adrenaline starting to flow, turning fear into determination, anger and rage.

'Fucking A' Ashton responded reaching down to his belt. 'We're going to flank them left and right, put the bastards in a crossfire and pin _them_ down' he declared then lifted something up towards his rifle. 'Then we go in and clear them out' he announced snapping it into place and turning towards the slayer laying closest alongside who was staring at him her jaw dropping, he winked at her and grinned. 'Now repeat what I say and take a deep breath because I want you to ring this out loud and clear so the bastards can hear you' he told them.

Watching the engagement from the fortified stockade down by the crossroads the Wolfram and Hart officer frowned. They had botched the ambush because some idiot had sprung it too early and the damn slayers were shooting back with a lot more enthusiasm than he'd been expecting.

A hollered phrase echoed amidst the gunfire as an order was given and repeated with a thunderous chorus of voices bellowed out at the top of their lungs.

The closest demon to the officer, one of a half dozen that were also based here tapped his shoulder to get the man's attention. 'What does it mean this battle cry of "Fix Bayonets"?' he asked quizzically as the black clad mercenary again flinched in response to the words.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_"No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy" - Napoleon Bonaparte_

_Oh yes and this fanfic still runs on reviews ;-)_


	9. Chapter 9

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER NINE**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – February 2004**

If triggered at the right time a properly laid out ambush is very difficult to escape from. Sometimes the only way to get out alive is to either surrender or launch a counter-attack against one side of the ambush and hope you don't lose all your troops trying to punch a hole in it. On the other hand if an ambush is discovered before it's sprung, or if its triggered too early, then suddenly it's the people doing the ambushing that are in the wrong place because they're positioned for the fight they _wanted_ not the fight they've actually_ got_ and if the other side act quickly enough they're now the ones with the tactical initiative.

Douglas Ashton, formally of the French Foreign Legion and before that the Canadian Army, couldn't quote a plethora of famous and/or infamous generals giving advice what to do in these situations, he was short on theory and long on practice, but he knew what to do when the opposition fucked up an ambush, surround the bastards and kick the living shit out of them before they got a chance to redeploy. 'Cover fire' he ordered and depressed the trigger on his carbine assault rifle bringing it around in an arc as he held it tight fighting against the recoil as he emptied it in a series of short bursts designed to keep heads down.

Half the girls did likewise, though without a fraction as much effort involved since they were far stronger than he and had little difficulty controlling their weapons even at fully automatic. Several orders of magnitude more rounds are fired in modern combat than the number of people getting shot, for the most part people are only firing to keep heads down and it is by no means unusual for units to find themselves running out of ammunition after only a few minutes of intense fighting. Back home Ashton would have been a great deal more cautious in ammunition expenditure but back home the troops didn't carry anywhere near as many rounds. Slayers didn't just have the strength to hold a bucking rifle totally steady they could also hump around an absolute shitload of spare magazines without being overburdened and they were.

They could move really fast too, Ashton thought to himself happily as the girls that weren't firing broke cover and sprinted to their next position throwing themselves to the ground on arrival and gradually moving around to envelop the failed ambush, flanking it to left and right. Whoever it was shooting at them they weren't completely inept, they were shooting back plenty and judging from the firing direction they knew the slayers were trying to flank them, and were trying to stop that happening, but they just weren't used to trying to hit a human sized moving target that could run ten miles an hour faster than an Olympic sprinter. One of the girls got clipped in the leg by a round and hit the dirt screaming but the others kept going and once they reached the place they were trying to get to, sometimes treestumps or ground depressions, in one case a low wall and in another a girl threw herself into a stream holding her rifle up to keep it as dry as she could, they immediately started firing themselves as their compatriots who had been giving covering fire had to stop to reload.

'Who got hit?' Ashton asked on his radio headset. He couldn't see from where he was but the screaming was hard to ignore.

'_Denise_' one of the other girls answered.

The mercenary ejected the empty clip in his G-36K and snapped in another one. 'Denise' he said. 'It only hurts because you're not dead so stop making that fucking noise.'

'_I got shot in the leg_' the girl screeched back. '_I'm bleeding_.'

'Bullet holes will do that to you' Ashton replied evenly. 'At least you didn't get shot in the ass like I did once so you can show the scar to people without getting thrown out of bars' he told her. 'In the Legion we said pain was just weakness leaving the body so just keep down and if it does hurts too much for you to take give yourself a shot of morphine' he told her. Each of them carried a small medikit on their belt which contained a couple of shots of the stuff though they'd been thinking sword injuries not bullet holes.

'_Slayers don't scar_' one of the other girls pointed out as she reloaded her own rifle. '_We heal really fast too_' she added before starting to fire again.

'Okay so you don't get a cool scar but you do get to get stoned out of your head on drugs if you want' Ashton told the wounded slayer who had stopped screaming and was fighting back the pain. If nothing else she was only drawing attention, and therby more bullets towards herself. 'And that is _not_ an invitation to anyone else to get themselves deliberately fucking shot' he told them. 'Janko what's the count?' he asked.

'_I count fifteen_' the other mercenary replied then the sharp distinct crack of his sniper rifle echoed across the field. '_Make that fourteen_' he said.

'Only fourteen of the fuckers?' Ashton retorted. 'Jesus Christ people we'll have them outnumbered in a minute.'

'_They're human_' Rika's easily identifiable South African accent announced. Like Perković she was looking through a high-powered telescopic sight and had started the fight positioned away from the main body of the group.

'_Human_?' another girl responded. '_We're not supposed to kill humans_.'

'Well they're trying to kill _us_, it's only fair' Ashton replied evenly and started firing aimed single shots over and over again towards the opposition. Got you now you bastards he thought.

Another sharp crack of a sniper rifle sounded out above the other firing. '_Thirteen_' Rika announced without a hint of emotion in her voice despite ending a human life for the first time, he was just another target in the crosshairs.

'That's the spirit' Ashton responded.

'_Got to be Wolfram and Hart_' one of the slayers said. She had stopped firing when Rika said they were human but started up again as another burst of fire from the enemy kicked up dirt next to her.

'_Bastards_' another said reloading yet again. '_At least the demons have an excuse for being evil_' she opined. '_They killed Bella, we kill them_' she declared taking aim.

'_If I can get to that well down there I bet I can pitch a grenade from there into that hole a couple of them are in down by the road_' one of the girls who'd been pushing around the left flank suggested. '_I can crawl the last fifty yards if I get across the open ground first_.'

Ashton stuck his head up for a second to take a look. 'That's a hell of a throw even if you get there' he said dubiously, ducking back down quickly as a bullet shot past him.

'_I used to play baseball_' the girl replied, '_and_ _I didn't have a hundred-fifty miles an hour fastball back then_' she declared. '_I can do it_' she said confidently.

The mercenary thought about it. 'Leave everything behind but your rifle, a couple of spare clips and your grenades' he told her, 'and you'd better run your ass off' he added. 'I want cover fire from everyone, and I mean _everyone_' he continued. 'We clear them out of there and we can pin the next position down and roll over them' the mercenary declared. 'All right let's do this' he said. 'You ready to run?' he asked.

The slayer unclipped her pack and got ready to sprint from her position. '_Covering fire_' she called out, then waiting a few seconds for the world to seemingly erupt in gunfire she sprung up from her position and started sprinting across a patch of scrubland then across a ploughed field, head down legs pumping for all they were worth heading towards a ditch by the side of the road, get in there and it was an easy crawl face-down through the mud to the stone well that was there to supply travellers at the crossroads.

Ashton whooped a visceral warcry when she got to where she was going, throwing herself headlong into the ditch, dirty water splashing everywhere as she landed flat in the mud. 'We've got you now you bastards' he howled as she started crawling face down in the dirt, bullets whizzing over the top of the ditch as the enemy tried to get her. 'Okay it's going to get fun soon' he said. 'Once they're on the back-foot we keep up momentum and stomp 'em into the ground' he told the girls, trying to make it all sound simple. It was going to be fast, vicious and excessively violent, and to think they actually _paid_ him to do this job the mercenary considered in mild disbelief at the very notion.

The young slayer was as good as her word and crawling up from the ditch using the stone well to shield her pitched the grenade straight into the concealed bunker further than any normal human could conceivably throw, the explosion proceeded by a shout of panic from the inhabitants before the grenade landing between them blew them apart.

'Okay we have ourselves a goddamn hole' Ashton declared enthusiastically. 'You and you put fire down on the guys shooting from two o'clock' he ordered pointing at the closest two girls to his right. 'You, you and you follow me' he told the one's to his left. 'Left flank keep trying to push around for a better angle everyone else just choose a target and pin it down hard' the mercenary told the slayers. 'You ready for this?' he asked the girls he'd told to follow him, grinning maniacally as he did so.

It was pretty clear they were going to be doing it whether they were or not so the three slayers made sure they had a fresh clip and prepared to follow the Canadian lunatic who was by now clearly enjoying himself, his system awash with adrenaline and endorphins as he psyched himself up.

'I'm going to ask for a transfer back to Earth' one said quietly. 'I miss fighting vampires' she said wistfully to herself as the mercenary started moving, firing short bursts from the shoulder as he went.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – February 2004**

Knox smiled as he handed over his report. 'As you can see by the time and motion study I carried out with the assistance of Andrew the production of one fully enchanted and operational slayer scythe could be easily produced every four to five days if Medousa was willing to cooperate and take out some of the ritual' he claimed. 'As you know it has however taken her over a month to prepare the first of the 2.1 series scythes since the first batch arrived from the manufacturer and she claims it won't be ready for delivery to Molly in London until the end of the week' he added.

'Four to five days?' Buffy queried looking doubtfully at Knox while the Guardian for her part glared daggers at him. They were the only three in the ancient woman's room, or perhaps lair or temple might be a better description given some of the décor.

'Conservative estimate' Knox replied directing a smirk back at Medousa. 'Andrew reached a best case scenario of better than two a week if she completely gave up on the chanting, prayers and meaningless hocus-pocus and just concentrated on the enchantment spells that actually _do_ something' he said. 'Willow has been providing most of the raw power anyway.'

'As I have said before you cannot industrialise magic and ritual' Medousa spoke up. 'It is art not science, prayer not procedure.'

'I'd call that New Age Hippy Crap if she wasn't three thousand or so years old' Knox responded. 'It's still a load of crap though' he declared smugly.

Medousa asked forgiveness from the Goddess in advance then slugged the obnoxious jerk in the mouth. It didn't have a lot of force behind it, she couldn't throw a punch like she could in her youth back in the late Bronze Age, but despite the pain in her hand she noted with satisfaction she'd split his lip before an extremely surprised Buffy could get between them.

'She hit me' Knox protested as Buffy pushed him back. He looked more astonished than vengeful but it was best to separate them.

'You were asking for it but that didn't make it right' Buffy responded. 'I can't believe you did that' she told the Guardian who was looking at her knuckles.

'I can't believe I didn't do that months ago' Medousa replied testing her fingers. Nothing broken but she was sure her knuckles were going to be bruised.

'You're not going to let her get away with that are you?' Knox asked holding a handkerchief from his pocket up to his lip.

'What do you want me to do?' Buffy asked. 'Ground her?' she asked sarcastically.

'The God-King will hear of this' Knox declared and stamped off.

Buffy watched him go, sighed and turned back to the Guardian. 'That was infantile you know' she chided, feeling ridiculous at saying such a thing to someone who remembered the Trojan Wars.

Medousa shrugged. 'I know' she admitted, 'but that man gets on my nerves' she said. 'Aren't I allowed to be crotchety at my age?' she asked wryly. 'I'm not long for this world you know.'

Buffy rolled her eyes. 'You could still outlive my great, great, great grandchildren' she pointed out.

'A century or two might seem a long time to you but my perspectives different' Medousa told her. 'I'm on my last legs' she stated.

The chief-slayer frowned. 'I hate to agree with Knox, on anything as it happens' she said, 'but we _do_ have a lot of uncharged scythes just sitting around in crates waiting for you to do your thing and if you can't do better than a dozen a year we'll be losing girls because they don't have one when they really need it.'

The Guardian nodded. 'I know that' she replied, 'but this isn't just making weapons as far as I'm concerned' she said. 'I didn't mind enchanting swords for you en-masse, but the scythes are different' she told the slayer. 'It's a matter of religion and faith, it's _not_ just meaningless ritual' she declared.

Buffy pursed her lips. 'I don't want to pressure you' she said. 'For one thing I don't want to get punched in the mouth' she joked, 'but could you maybe raise your rate to one every week or so?' she asked. 'Even at that rate it'll take you four years to get the ones we've already had made all finished and that's only one scythe for every ten slayers' she noted.

'One a week?' the Guardian responded with a grimace. 'Maybe if I had some more help' she said.

'What kind of help?' Buffy asked.

'Another witch' the Guardian replied. 'Willow knows of others, she has spoken of them in glowing terms.'

Buffy looked thoughtful. 'There was the Coven that Giles took her to back in England' she said. 'Maybe they'd be willing to help?' she pondered. 'They helped Willow even though she scared the hell out of them and they loaned Giles some of their power before that to try and stop her when she lost her control' she continued. 'We could always ask I suppose, offer a decent salary.'

'Thinking of which if I am supposed to be quadrupling my productivity am I going to get a raise?' Medousa asked.

'I didn't even know we paid you' Buffy replied raising her eyebrows.

'I have expenses and now I'm not stuck in that pyramid I do like to go out and see the world sometimes' Medousa replied. 'Thomas is taking me to a restaurant tonight and I would sooner wish myself in Tartarus than let him pay the bill.'

'Thomas?' Buffy queried then her eyes widened. 'Stirling?' she asked in shock. 'You're going out to eat with _Stirling_?' she said incredulously. The Guardian and the elderly "Shadow-Man" fought like cats and dogs.

'He is argumentative, annoying and misogynistic' Medousa told her, 'but it became obvious that we both seem to enjoy the squabbling. It's more company than anything else' she continued. 'Although in terms of years he is as much of an infant as you from my perspective, in manner he is not as infuriatingly youthful and flippant as the vast majority of the inhabitants of this building' she said. 'I find the horde of teenagers particularly oppressive' the Guardian stated honestly.

'Maybe we could find you a nice retirement home' Buffy suggested with a chuckle.

'Where I could regale visitors with stories of my youth perhaps?' Medousa replied with a smile. 'I once had to flee for my life because I sneaked in to watch the Olympic Games and that was forbidden for women.'

'Why?' Buffy asked.

'Because back then the men competed naked, why do you think I sneaked in?' Medousa replied with a wink. 'Still it wasn't as fun as getting fired from my job as a vestal virgin in Rome' she added. 'I wasn't really qualified for the position and getting found with that Centurion pretty much made them realise I'd been less than candid on my resume.'

Buffy grimaced. 'Sorry' she apologised for the reaction, 'but it's like hearing sex stories from my grandmother' she told her.

Medousa shook her head sadly. 'Honestly you AD people think you invented sex' she responded. 'All you invented as far as I can see was sexual repression and homophobia' she opined. 'I blame the monotheism personally. Only one God, especially one who's a man, can only lead to trouble.'

'Well I won't think to argue theology with you' Buffy responded, 'but if we get the extra help you'll make with the scythes?'

'Yes' Medousa replied, 'but I'm still not forgetting about the productivity bonus' she added.

'Tell you what, don't punch anyone for a couple of days and I'll think about it' Buffy offered.

'Sounds fair' the Guardian agreed. 'Knox is too busy designing a weapon for his mistress to get in my way in any case and I have little inclination to violence when he is absent.'

'What kind of weapon?' Buffy asked nervously.

'A pair of very large swords to replace the one she already has but made in the same way as the new scythes' Medousa replied. 'I only know because he requested I enchant them on completion as I did the other one she used to defeat the Hellgod Glory. They will still be far weaker than the scythes, the magicks that flow through them and give them their power make them unusable by such as the Old One.'

'You're sure' Buffy asked her.

'I don't teach you how to slay vampires and you don't tell me how to enchant weapons' Medousa replied, 'or suck eggs' she added with a smile.

'My grandma what sharp scythes you have' Buffy joked.

'All the better to slay with my dear' Medousa replied, grateful she'd been catching up on modern literature as well as pop-culture so the reference didn't slip past her. She still preferred Homer to the new stuff though, pity she didn't keep that signed first addition of the Iliad she used to have, it would probably be worth a lot of money and in her opinion the original ending was a lot better anyhow.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – February 2004**

The fighting became frenzied in the end-game which came all too quickly once the slayers started pushing hard trying to force the enemy positions through the weak point. The Wolfram and Hart Special Op's were quite well dug in but this in turn limited their ability to redeploy to cover other angles, especially given the amount of supersonic lead flying about. It would have been a beautiful ambush if it had worked but they had underestimated their opponents thinking that even if it didn't go perfectly the slayers would be so rattled by getting into an unaccustomed gunfight they would be unable to exploit the situation.

It wasn't going to be a bloodless victory at the end though. One of the slayers on the right flank exchanging fire with one of the dug-outs caught a round in the upper arm which shattered the bone there and left it a bloody mess as she tried to crawl around for a better firing angle as she lay on the ground screaming another girl that tried to help nearly had her brains blown out by a round that skimmed across the side of her head and opened up a gaping wound that bled profusely as she tried to stem the flow using her beret as a cloth.

Mary was to become the second slayer to be killed that day as she caught a burst of fire in the chest and abdomen as she tried to move up on a trench. She was still alive when she saw another girl chuck an incendiary grenade into the trench and the last thing she heard were the dying screams of the man who had shot her as the grenade exploded showering him with burning phosphorus. Other positions were dealt with in the same way echoing stormtrooper tactics from late in the First World War when the combatants, initially the German Army in fact finally worked out how to properly deal with trench warfare by issuing plenty of sub-machine guns and grenades and simply overwhelming them in sudden shock attacks before the defenders could mount a decent defence or regain the initiative.

One of the special ops tried to run and scrambled out of his dug-out but was caught by a fifteen year old girl who charged him down and crashing into him at full speed and rammed a bayonet through him hard enough to lift him completely off his feet. She yanked it back out and screaming a battle-cry slammed it into him again as he hit the ground, she could see the terror in his eyes as she did it, all he could see in hers was rage, she looked a lot like his little sister he thought bizarrely as she ended his life.

The demons in the stockade came running out swords in hand once the slayers closed and they were ruthlessly shot to pieces except for one who knocked a slayers rifle from her hands and got her short-sword through his throat for his effort as she drew it and struck in one fluid practiced movement. The last demon died when Ashton emptied the remainder of a magazine through it at close range then used his own bayonet to finish the job. 'Throw a grenade in there before you take a look' he ordered indicating the stockade.

'No don't, I surrender' a voice called out from inside.

'Stand down Jailbait' Ashton said quickly to the girl who was still about to pull the pin on the grenade she pulled from her battlepack. 'Throw out you arms and come out hands above your head or we'll kill you' the mercenary said simply.

An assault rifle and a pistol were thrown out of the wooden stockade soon followed by a man wearing the black fatigues of Wolfram and Hart Special Ops with his hands up.

Ashton grabbed him and threw him face-first to the ground. 'Is there anyone else in there?' he bellowed planting a boot on the back of his neck.

'No' the man replied.

'Throw in that grenade then take a look Jailbait' Ashton ordered, the girl complying, pulling the pin and heaving it inside where it detonated shaking the stockade before she went inside, her carbine shouldered and ready for action. 'It's clear' she said after checking.

Ashton took his boot off the prisoners neck. 'Get up' he told him as two more girls arrived. 'Mary's dead' one of them announced. 'The rest of these fuckers are dead' she added pointing with her carbine at the man.

'Volunteer for the firing squad Caporal-Chef' the other girl said coldly.

'I surrendered' the prisoner protested.

'Do we _look_ like we give a fuck about the Geneva Convention' Ashton told him. 'Don't kill him unless he runs' he ordered. 'I want information and this asshole has it' he said. 'There could be more of them heading this way' he continued. 'I want our wounded patched up ready to move in five minutes, carry them if you have to' he told the girls. 'I want Bella and Mary carried too we ain't leaving them behind for something to eat them.'

'I'll carry Bella' the closest girl said quietly. 'She was my friend.'

'Good girl' Ashton told her. 'Anyone not carrying someone, collect the enemy arms and ammunition we'll bring them along' he ordered, 'and before you touch any of them shoot them again to make sure they ain't just faking' he added. 'Alright shithead' he addressed the prisoner. 'Are there any more of you nearby?' he asked.

'No we're spread thin' the prisoner replied nervously.

'If anyone shows up I'm going to kill you for lying to me' Ashton said simply. 'Five minutes people then we're heading back to base at the double' he called out. 'They ain't nice like me back there' he told the prisoner.

'Who are you?' the man asked.

'Just the hired help like you I'm just choosier who I work for' Ashton replied. 'Not letting the girls shoot you or beat you to death is professional courtesy, don't make me set them loose on you because they're kinda pissed at the moment.'

'Mercenary' the prisoner noted. 'We didn't know your side was hiring mercs too' he said looking around, 'didn't think it was their style.'

'I guess it's a day for surprises' Ashton told him. 'Wouldn't want to bet on it not being your last either' he added then turned to the nearest slayer. 'He runs, you kneecap him, put a tourniquet around his leg so he doesn't bleed to death and carry him' he told the girl then turned back to the prisoner. 'She can carry you easy and she'd _love_ to shoot you so don't give her an excuse' he told him. 'Time's ticking by slayers' he yelled. 'Sense of urgency people, go go go' he encouraged them. If they stopped to start thinking about the situation they might fall apart, he needed them busy, active and distracted.

The slayer looked into the eyes of the prisoner. 'Run' she told him. '_Please_' she added, seemingly staring right through him.

'You really underestimated my girls didn't you' Ashton told him. 'Well if you think they were mean before how do you think they'll be now?' he asked rhetorically then paused. 'So what do they pay you guys anyhow?' he asked curiously.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This Fanfic runs on reviews. _

_The next chapter will be a touch less intense and more light-hearted, and I wish you all a Happy Easter_


	10. Chapter 10

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – February 2004**

Kennedy rolled her eyes as the car screeched to a halt right in front of her by the doors to the apartment building. 'So this is your idea of a practical vehicle?' she asked sardonically as Stephen turned in the driver's seat and grinned at her gunning the engine a couple of times and pressing the button to close the roof on the convertible before he turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. She knew he was out collecting a new car this morning but he had been very cagey on what it was going to be exactly, he'd phoned he on the way telling her to meet him outside the apartment building and then they'd walk to lunch at the local café they had started to frequent.

'Well you never know, one day we might get into a car chase' he replied unconvincingly getting out of the Jaguar XKR, an exact double of the one Illyria had purchased for Wesley. The young watcher had been besotted with the machine since he had "borrowed" the other mans to pick up his girlfriend from school one day back in LA, so now he owned one himself. Unlike Wesley however Stephen considered himself young, cool, and possibly sane enough to enjoy it properly.

'How the hell did you even afford this?' she asked. 'I thought you were on the same pay grade as me and _I_ can't afford one of these' she noted suspiciously.

'Inheritance came through' he answered. 'Dad said he'd buy me a car when I turned eighteen' he continued, 'probably not how he intended it to happen but I like to think of it as carrying out the old mans wishes.'

'He was going to buy you a sports car?' Kennedy queried.

'Oh bloody hell no' Stephen admitted. 'I'd have been lucky to get a second hand Volkswagen' he told her.

'Decided to get your mid-life crisis over a few decades early did you?' Kennedy asked, watching him pat the Jaguar tenderly.

Stephen shrugged. 'Given our lifestyles it seemed better to get it out of the way now' he answered with a wry smile. 'Don't know if I'll make twenty yet, let alone forty.'

'Driving that thing is more likely to kill you than anything we run into on patrol' Kennedy told him seriously, then paused. 'Can I borrow it next weekend when Willow's in town?' she asked.

'Bugger off' Stephen replied with a smirk, 'and I'm hiding the keys' he declared as they started heading towards the café. 'So who are you going to berate at our little command conference today?' he asked. 'If it's Jackie again you give her too hard a time, she tries really hard and her swordplay is getting much better.'

'There's more to being a slayer than swinging a piece of sharp steel' Kennedy replied. 'You put too much emphasis on that' she told the watcher.

Stephen smiled. 'We all have our obsessions' he replied.

Kennedy chuckled. 'I know the girls come to you to complain about me' she told him.

'Of course' Stephen agreed. 'Daddy against Mommy' he joked. 'I always tell them you're a fascist, authoritative tyrant for their own good of course' he continued, 'although perhaps not phrased _precisely_ that way.'

'Glad to hear it' Kennedy responded.

'I've _never_ accused you of being a fascist' Stephen told her deadpan.

Kennedy threw him a look. 'They're just trying to manipulate you' she said. 'I've seen Jackie flutter her eyelashes in your direction' she told him.

'I manipulate them right back' Stephen told her. 'She's doing my laundry today' he told her. 'You might be a tyrant but I make a much better calculating, self-serving evil genius' he declared.

'It's the accent' Kennedy opined. 'All the best villains at the movies are played by Brits.'

'Alan Rickman is my guru' the watcher told her as they turned a corner. The Café was right ahead now. 'Seriously though Jackie dispatched that vampire quite handily last night outside the bowling alley' he pointed out. 'I doubt you could have done the job much better yourself and at the risk of giving you a big head you _are_ very good at your job.'

'Is this you trying to manipulate _me_?' the slayer asked. 'Appealing to my vanity or something?'

'Only partially' Stephen told her. 'I was being completely honest, I merely phrased it carefully for greatest effect.'

'It worked' Kennedy admitted.

'Well of course' Stephen replied holding the café door open for her as they reached their destination. 'How could a young colonial lady of any sexual persuasion fail to respond to my smooth British charm' he asked, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

Kennedy laughed. 'Oh yeah you're like every girls fantasy' she told him. 'We're all longing in our heart of hearts for a sword fetishist that wears Snoopy underwear.'

Stephen ground his teeth. 'I'm going to kill Emily for telling everybody about that' he growled.

'I heard from Dawn' Kennedy told him.

'Telling Dawn_ is_ telling everybody' Stephen stated, then sighed, it was too late to worry about it now. 'You buying?' he asked, changing the subject. 'It's your turn I believe.'

'_I'm_ not the one with the money to go out buying Sports Cars' Kennedy responded evenly.

'Well it's not like I got a Ferrari or anything' Stephen protested in vain. 'We'll take our usual table please' he told the waitress who came over to them. 'I'll have tea, the bane of many a girls existence here will have a cappuccino and I beg of you, _please_ make sure the water is boiling when the tea goes in' he requested, putting his hands together in a mock prayer while throwing the waitress his most charming smile. It was something of a running joke, they had only done it wrong on his first visit but the waitress seemed to appreciate it.

They sat down on a table by the window and looked over the lunch menu. 'Going to let one of the new girls take out the scythe tonight?' Stephen asked.

'Sandy I think' Kennedy replied. 'She's been putting in the most effort.'

Stephen nodded. 'Good call' he agreed. 'She's an enthusiastic little thing.'

'She does more than her fair share of the chores too' Kennedy noted. People who went above and beyond won extra credit in her book whether it was trying harder to make sure that one extra demon didn't get away, or even something as trivial as helping out doing the dishes when it wasn't your turn.

'Farmgirl' Stephen pointed out. 'They're not lazy like us urban sophisticates' he opined. 'Probably misses getting up at 4 AM to milk the cows.'

'Just don't let her make any of that stew again' Kennedy said, sticking out her tongue in an exaggerated grimace.

'I rather liked it' Stephen replied honestly.

Kennedy tapped the menu after deciding what she wanted. 'Willow told me what they fed her sometimes at that Coven in Devonshire. The mother country can't cook, it's a well known fact' she stated.

'It's an entirely unfounded stereotype' Stephen retorted, 'and the county is called Devon _not_ Devonshire, Devonshire is a kind of cream tea' he told her.

'No need to get all defensive about it' Kennedy told him clearly amused by his reaction.

'You'll be accusing us all of having bad teeth next' Stephen muttered under his breath 'Anyhow want to take the new car for a spin around town later?' he asked brightly. 'I'm going to see if I can find a way to get those stealth-slayer glyphs to work somehow so we won't have to worry about cops with radar guns' he told her with a broad grin.

'You're just a big kid' Kennedy told him. 'You talk and act all mature but you are' she insisted. 'You do _know_ that right?' she asked seriously.

Stephen fought back a pout and sulked for the next ten minutes or so but tried not to let it show.

**Florence – Oregon – February 2004**

'Supposedly the next few miles of Route 101 are really scenic' Spike said looking up from the guidebook. 'I've driven it before but I didn't think so at the time.'

'You were driving it at night and you didn't have a soul' Angel pointed out, bringing the Range Rover into the motel parking lot. The sun was already dropping below the horizon and they'd been driving most of the day, they were almost out of gas too and would have to fill up the tank before they set off in the morning.

Spike opened the passenger door as soon as Angel pulled up and jumped out to stretch his legs. They'd been driving for a good few hours, although they had stopped at one point just to look out over the Pacific ocean for what seemed like an eternity, the necro-tempered glass windshield enabling them to do so without bursting into flames. The trip hadn't been anywhere near as bad so far as Angel had feared, or Spike had planned in fact, they just spent hour after hour looking out at the world as it went by. 'I'll drive tomorrow' Spike said.

'Can I trust you not to get us pulled over?' Angel asked. 'It's not like we can step out of the vehicle because some highway patrolman tells us to' he noted.

'What's he going to do? Shoot out the tyres?' Spike joked.

'Or the windshield' Angel responded seriously tapping the glass as he stepped out himself reaching back for his coat. 'It stops UV light not bullets' he reminded the other vampire. 'That stuff shatters and we're two piles of dust in the front seats.'

Spike frowned. 'They make bullet-proof glass don't they?' he asked.

'Fred's working on making necro-tempered stuff that'll turn a bullet but there's a problem with it so far, don't ask me what, she explained but I got as far as the word photons and my brain shut down' he said. 'That didn't seem to stop her for the next ten minutes though.'

'Did she breathe?' Spike asked closing the car door on his side. 'I've heard her yammer and I'm not sure which of us needs oxygen less' he told Angel checking his wallet. 'This is the place we booked ahead with right?' he asked.

Angel nodded. 'I'll check in with reception' he replied.

'There's a bar over the road' Spike pointed out. 'See you over there, what do you want?'

'You're offering to get me a drink?' Angel asked in surprise.

Spike glared at him. 'I may have been lots of things, but when was I ever tight about buying a round even when I _was_ evil?' he asked indignantly. '_You_ were always the cheap sod not me.'

Angel thought about it. 'Alright I apologise' he replied 'Draft beer with a whiskey chaser' he requested.

'If they do buffalo wings do you want any because I'm getting some?' Spike asked, 'I'm only asking because you drove, you get to feed me tomorrow night' he told him.

'Yeah okay' Angel replied. Vampire senses were all heightened except for the tastebuds oddly enough, food never tasted the same after you were turned but really spicy things could sometimes get over that problem. 'I'll throw your bag in your room' he called after the other vampire as Spike headed for the bar.

Ten minutes later they were sat together at the bar and it felt, well _normal_ Angel decided. Just two guys on a roadtrip, a roadtrip up to Seattle where Willow's locator spell told them Drusilla the seer vampire was admittedly, but they'd driven along the coast for hundreds of miles, enjoyed the view, in daytime no less and now they were just sitting having a beer like regular guys. Spike annoyed the crap out of Angel, often deliberately for the sake of a cheap laugh in fact, but one thing he found he could do with him was not worry about putting up the defences like he had to with Wesley or Cordelia, Gunn or Fred. William the Bloody had done things almost as bad as Angelus and they'd been together when a lot of them had happened. Angel didn't have to worry about Spike judging him he was simply in no position too.

The lousy rotten stinking undead English bastard still helped himself to at least half of Angels Buffalo Wings as well as eating his own though, Angel noted angrily when he go back from seeing if there was anything good on the jukebox. Fortunately for those not enamoured of the power-ballads there weren't any.

Spike wondered when it was that Angel had got unbelievably bad at talking to women when a very nice duo who turned out to be sisters tried to pick them up. From what he knew of the guys past, back when he was Liam and the old heart still went thump-thump in his chest Angel had been a real ladies man which is how Darla got her fangs into him, Angelus had been a damn fine seducer too, often just for sex not blood though he usually got both, so it wasn't the vampire issue, but _whatever_ it was the black-clad bugger couldn't chat up the birds to save his life. He was really letting the side down as far as Spike was concerned, sitting there like a bleeding zombie while good old William did all the talking. He knew Angel had a girlfriend now, damn good looking one as a matter of fact even if she did suffer a serious body-hair problem sometimes, but even if he _wasn't_ interested in getting in a shag he could at least flirt a bit couldn't he Spike thought. It wasn't like he was likely to get a burst of perfect happiness if a tasty bit put her hand on his thigh or something.

Or maybe he was? It occurred to Spike, the way he dressed did give a vibe that said wanker so maybe he had a tendency to go off too soon too? Spike pondered, spontaneously bursting into laughter at the notion which he couldn't share with anyone right then unfortunately. He did however make a detailed mental note to mention it once the view out of the Range Rover windows lost its appeal and he needed to find entertainment another way. If he was driving at the time Angel was unlikely to punch him in the face immediately which was a plus.

Anyhow even if he _did_ punch him in the face that was still better than trying to figure out what to say to Dru Spike decided. Best to cross that psychotic bridge when he came to it, or maybe they could just tranq her and drop her back at the Hyperion unconscious and let someone else handle that particular problem. Facing certain death in a Hellmouth Spike could handle, but to be honest, even after spending over a century with her, there was something about Drusilla that never failed to scare the living crap out of him.

The next day, approximately another hundred miles up the road and doing sixty-five, Angel punched Spike in the face and they nearly crashed but they both thought at the time it was well worth it.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – February 2003**

'I hope Wesley is alright' Illyria said, leaning back to avoid the punch being thrown at her head before taking the slayers outstretched arm and performing a judo throw on Faith that rolled her in the air and sent her crashing to the floor hard. Coming from the other direction Buffy managed to get a roundhouse kick to connect that knocked the God-King slightly off balance but before the blond slayer could capitalise on it Illyria somehow dropped to the floor and with one leg outstretched swept Buffy's legs out from under her bringing the slayer crashing down while Faith flipped herself to her feet for another go as Illyria straightened back up.

'You could at least show some respect and not try to hold a goddamn conversation with us when we're sparring' Faith told Illyria and darted in throwing a volley of skilled and powerful punches which Illyria initially managed to counter until one good punch finally caught her on the chin and rocked her head back and to the right.

'A true warrior seeks to unbalance their enemies mind as well as their fighting stance' Illyria replied. 'Is that not the reason for the banter Buffy and yourself employ?' she asked, throwing a punch of her own which knocked Faith half way across the room.

Buffy kicked Illyria on the back of her right knee as hard as she could buckling it and finally bringing her down. 'No mostly I just do it for the laughs' she explained. Jumping clear before the Old One could grab hold of her.

The other slayers gathered around gave a round of applause to Buffy as Illyria flipped to her own feet. 'They _do_ know I am taking it easy on you I assume?' the God-King asked. Buffy and Faith had been sparring with each other when Illyria arrived but she had offered to fight them both as a demonstration to the class.

Faith got up holding an arm across her ribs where Illyria had punched her. 'That hurt' she complained.

'They should be unbroken' Illyria told her, 'your ribs I mean' she explained. 'Slayers are surprisingly resilient to impact, though your skin is however easily cut which diminishes from your combat effectiveness considerably.'

'We can't all have skin like yours' Buffy retorted, 'even if the colour's optional.'

'It would save you a fortune on moisturisers if nothing else' Illyria replied semi-seriously. 'Is our sparring at an end?' she asked.

'Not on your life' Buffy told her. 'I'm starting to get the measure of you now' she said confidently, 'besides which you can't cheat and do the time thing.'

Illyria frowned, the fact was that the shell _was_ still lacking in stability after the excessive strain placed upon it of late, and it was unwise to employ her more esoteric powers at present. She couldn't risk altering the flow of time any more than she could undertake her usual regular trips to Pylea. 'I am still far stronger than you with reaction times superior to a slayer.'

'Yeah' Buffy admitted, 'but we've got numbers' she said with a grin. 'And now I've thought about it we have been talking for a while about using them to knock you down a peg.'

Illyria looked around. 'What?' she queried, then her eyes widened realising she was actually surrounded. 'You _wouldn't_' she stated.

'After the number of times you've pummelled me and the other girls in training then mocked us, derided our ancestors back to the Pre-Cambrian era and then criticised our tastes in clothes and music, oh _yes_ we damn well would' Buffy replied evenly. 'I want three girls on each limb at least or she'll break free' she ordered. 'And hold on tight because you all know how strong she is.'

'What are we going to do with her B?' Faith asked.

'I think we should drag her to the hotel pool and throw her in' Buffy replied. 'Does the blue come off in chlorine?' she asked, starting to grin.

'You wouldn't _dare_' Illyria declared, estimating if there were enough slayers present to completely overpower her, unfortunately there were and with plenty to spare.

'We like you Blue… but it's been nearly a year since you turned up and if nothing else it's high time you got properly initiated into the club' Buffy told her. 'I don't think you're petty enough to kill or maim us afterwards for doing it.'

'B's right' Faith opined. 'You need knocking off your high horse or you'll never be taken seriously as a team player.'

'I am _not_ a team player' Illyria stated, trying to think up a viable escape plan and failing miserably.

'One quick dunking and it's all over' Buffy reassured her. 'You'll be wet, we'll laugh our asses off, and everything will be cool.'

'This is senseless, I will wreak vengeance upon all of you if you launch such an attack directed to inflict such an indignity upon me' The Old One declared.

'Sorry Illyria' Buffy apologised. 'It's been a long time coming but this feels like the day _you_ learn your limitations, and _we_ learn how well you float.'

'Kinda skinny to be all that buoyant B' Faith interjected. 'Just grin and bear it Smurfette, show some class' she implored. 'Use that superior intellect you insist you have, it'll smooth over your relations with the group.'

'There will be a reckoning mark my words well slayers' Illyria told them. 'I am the Shaper of Things, creator of this timeline…'

'God-King of the Primordium' Buffy intoned, 'Yes we all know but you're one of us too and if anyone else acted like you they'd have been pulled up on it months ago. If it helps you're the most endearing egomaniac deity I know… but it's time to get soggy.'

'Aw crap' Illyria moaned as they advanced on her.

To give Illyria her due it was an epic struggle that resulted in nearly half the slayers ending up in the pool along with her, including Buffy, but it was too late by then, numerical superiority had, in Buffy's words "won out over superiority complex". Illyria was soaking wet and quietly seething as she got back out of the water.

Sitting by the side of the pool herself, dripping water onto the ceramic tiles, Buffy looked up at Illyria. 'Feeling a bit less omnipotent there?'

'No' Illyria replied, 'just wet.'

'Think of it as a baptism into the sisterhood' Buffy told her. 'Girls meet Illyria, the God Slayer' she announced.

Illyria looked down at her. 'I must be far more fond of you than I thought else I would currently be feeding you your own entrails' she told the slayer.

'Aw she's getting all choked up and emotional' Faith commented starting to laugh. 'Oh shit' she exclaimed when Illyria snapped forward inhumanly fast grabbed hold of her and threw her bodily into the pool.

'Anyone else present who is still dry either jumps in of their own accord or gets _put_ in there' Illyria declared, her pronouncement, which was delivered in one of her most imperious and reverberating tones, being immediately greeted by a number of girls diving into the water. 'I find the title God-Slayer mildly acceptable but if this "sisterhood" entails any talking about our feelings or touchy-feely crap of any kind, I am not interested' she told Buffy, then the God-King turned her back towards them and started heading towards her room with all the dignity she could muster in the circumstances.

Buffy helped Faith back out of the pool. 'She didn't rip out a single spine' Buffy noted, 'do you see how far she's come?' she asked rhetorically.

'Oh yeah' Faith replied, taking off her waterlogged boots. 'Blue's just all sweetness and light these days' she said, turning one of them upside down to let the water inside pour back into the pool, her ribs still hurt too.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This fanfic runs on reviews. _

_And it really was high time Illyria's ego got deflated a tad methinks :-p_


	11. Chapter 11

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me. _

**CHAPTER ELEVEN **

**Great** **Northern** **Forest**** – Pylea – March 2004 **

Buffy looked at the freshly dug graves with flowers strewn around them and decided it hadn't been her best decision ever to accompany Illyria on the much delayed supply run to Pylea, she would have been happier not seeing this. They had been greeted on arrival by a young slayer named Denise who was still limping around several weeks after having been apparently being shot in the leg which certainly indicated how serious the damage must have been given her slayer healing, and the girl had given them a brief explanation of what had been going on since the last supply run before handing them over to Wesley.

There were three dead slayers resting there under the Pylean soil, two of them Bella and Mary killed in the first engagement and the third girl, Karen had caught a stray round in one of the subsequent skirmishes that had broken out since. The number of wounded was far larger, slayers could usually survive any injury that wasn't almost immediately fatal, just stop all the blood leaking out before they die and they'd usually heal, but to Buffy's surprise they were still taking the field, as much for vengeance as a sense of duty.

'We nearly had to dig another hole for Annette last week, didn't think she'd make it through the night but she pulled through' Wesley told the Chief-Slayer. 'We were on the verge of doing an Emergency Portal back home with her, we've got the right spells and there's a paranormal hot-spot near that should have enough juice but moving her there would have been more likely to kill her than leaving her where she was' he explained. 'She's fine now, be up on her feet again in a couple of days' he told Buffy.

'Three girls dead' Buffy said quietly, 'none of them were over seventeen' she added.

'I hate to sound callous but in slayer terms they didn't die all _that_ young' Wesley replied.

Buffy rounded on him. 'This isn't the old days' she told him forcefully. 'We don't lose people like this anymore' she declared. 'We don't allow it to happen.'

'It's not always up to us Buffy' Wesley told her. 'The other side have a little say in the matter too' he pointed out.

'Humans' Buffy said, crossing her arms. 'We're fighting humans now.'

Wesley shrugged. 'Killing them too' he noted. 'We've had half a dozen clashes with firearm equipped personnel operating in league with Sebassis's Troops and so far we estimate we've taken out close to fifty of them, mostly constructs I'll admit, they aren't as competent as human soldiers but they look like we do so I doubt that matters in the dreams some of the girls are having.'

'Constructs?' Buffy queried. 'Like Hamilton or Eve?'

'More like bad human copies, they don't have his strength or her brains and they have a terrible tendency to not aim properly which makes them diabolical shots' Wesley replied. ' Illyria has mentioned them as being used as guards in Wolfram and Hart Holding Dimensions so it seems the opposition is scraping up everything it can' he continued. 'They're still far more of a threat to us than demons swinging clubs, we've altered tactics accordingly.'

'Why didn't you just put everything on hold?' Buffy asked him.

'Couldn't yield them the initiative' Wesley responded. 'After getting the full story out of the prisoner we took we put it to a vote of the girls and they all said they wanted to get some payback anyway' he explained.

Buffy looked down at the graves again. 'This isn't what I signed the girls up for' she said. 'Not fighting humans with guns, it's crossing over a line I don't want to cross.'

Wesley looked her in the eye. 'Are you saying you want evil to win because if they think all they have to do to beat you is use human soldiers and you'll back away from the fight then evil _will_ win' he told her. 'The Senior Partners aren't retarded imbeciles, they're Machiavellian as much as they are monstrous and if you give them an advantage like that they'll exploit it.'

Buffy looked pained. 'But the girls…' she said, 'it's making them _killers_ not slayers' she told him, remembering what Ashton had sad to her months ago, foul-mouthed jerk must be psychic she thought wryly.

'They're volunteers' Wesley told her. 'Any of them that doesn't want to run the risk of killing another human being doesn't have to, they can chase after vampires back home if they want but honestly it hasn't been as big a leap for them as you think' he told her. 'Rika doesn't seem to care if she's shooting at humans or demons and she gets a good view of them through a sniper scope' he told her. 'Jailbait, I mean Charlotte, broke a mans neck the other day, just sneaked up on him grabbed him from behind and snapped it like a twig.'

Buffy grimaced. 'That's almost like murder' she declared.

'More like pre-emptive retaliation' Wesley replied. 'He _was_ here to kill her when you think about it' he pointed out. 'These are _not_ nice people, they're paid killers who are here to shoot teenage girls, if they get killed instead, well it's difficult to argue it wasn't fully deserved' he opined.

Buffy looked upwards, Pylea's twin suns cast strange shadows amongst the trees that surrounded them. 'So much for innocence' she said.

'Life these days seems to have a great deal more moral complexity than hanging around a high school stabbing vampires with pieces of wood doesn't it?' Wesley asked flatly.

'It was a Golden Age' Buffy replied wistfully. 'This sucks' she said, 'they're dead and I sent them here and now the rest of them are turning into the Dirty Dozen' she declared. 'What am I going to tell their parents?' she asked.

Wesley frowned. 'I would suggest not the truth' he replied. 'Most of them think we're running a girls school, perhaps a field trip accident?' he offered. 'We can't really return the bodies, the bullet wounds are too obvious' he told her. 'You_ could_ arrange a mind-wipe.'

'Erase them from history?' Buffy asked. 'They deserve better than that.'

'I doubt the girls here will forget them' Wesley replied. 'Nor the locals, many of the flowers on the graves were from them.'

'Is it worth it?' Buffy asked. 'It's not even our world.'

Wesley sighed. 'If I was an unfeeling bastard I'd point out that we're fighting them here so we don't have to fight them somewhere else' he told her.

'You _did_ just point that out' Buffy replied.

'Well perhaps I _am_ an unfeeling bastard then' Wesley responded, 'but honestly I don't think the people here, human or demon, deserve to be slaves of Wolfram Hart and their allies so if I think that I should act on it' he said. 'If we weren't prepared to go all the way on this we shouldn't have started it.'

'And how many girls are going to end up buried here before the end?' Buffy asked rhetorically.

'As small a number as possible I hope' Wesley replied. 'We've compiled a list of equipment we would like to be added to the next supply run that should help with that and we're being far more cautious in our operations now, there's one more thing though.'

'Yes?' Buffy asked.

'This is turning into a real war now not a one-sided massacre like it was, I'm not the best man for the job here I would suggest Stirling instead' he told her. 'He might be advanced in his years but he knows how to soldier and that's what you need.'

'Can't the mercs help with that?' Buffy queried.

'With all due respect to Ashton and Perković they're not officers, big-picture thinking and overall planning isn't their strong suit' Wesley told her. 'You want something blown up, or someone to keep their heads in a firefight they're fine but running a war is another matter.'

'Okay I'll ask him' Buffy agreed.

'I'm sure he'll agree' Wesley told her. 'Now would you like to see more of the operation we've got running here?' he asked.

Buffy took a last look at the graves then nodded. 'Lead on' she told him.

**Great ****Russell Street**** – ****London**** – March 2004 **

Willow smiled but made sure to stand well back when Molly started swinging the scythe about, the other London based slayers were also dotted around the room casting envious eyes in her direction. 'That's the first of the 2.1 versions' she told the English slayer, 'I don't know how much better it is than Faith's or Kennedy's 2.0's but it's supposed to be an improvement.'

'Feels like the one Faith had, not like Buffy's original' Molly told her. 'It's weird but they both feel like you somehow' she added.

Willow grinned. 'Everyone says that' she responded. 'There's a lot of Rosenberg in the new scythes.'

'Makes me want to go out and slay something' Molly told her. 'Thanks for teleporting over with it.'

'Hey, if airport security won't let passengers carry a pair of scissors they weren't going to let me onboard a plane with that thing in my hand luggage' Willow responded. 'Teleporting saved me a whole lot of trouble' she joked.

'So has anyone tried holding two at once yet?' Molly asked carefully checking the edge of the blade with her thumb and regretting it instantly when the razor sharp blade cut her skin leaving a drop of blood on the weapon.

'Yeah' Willow answered. 'Holding Buffy's and one of the new one's makes you nauseous according to Faith but holding hers and that one makes you feel like you've drunk a gallon of espresso.'

Molly grinned. 'I can see that' she replied. 'Hey scouse' she called over to Natasha, 'catch' she said throwing it to her, making sure the blade wasn't facing the wrong way.

Natasha caught the scythe out of the air and closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her face. 'It _does_ feel like you' she told Willow, 'I only ever tried Buffy's one before' she added. 'Too weird' she said passing it to the next girl.

'Just remember it's mine' Molly told the other slayers.

'Serial number 0004' Willow told Molly, 'you have to sign for it, got a pen?' she joked holding out a receipt form, Molly _always_ had a pen.

'Triple-O Four?' Natasha asked. 'Who gets Triple-O Seven?' she asked.

'Vi gets five, Rona gets six and Amanda gets lucky number seven' Willow replied. 'Licensed to Slay, well almost.'

'Custom colours would be nice' one of the other girls said. 'I don't like red' she continued.

'I'll choose not to take that personally' Willow replied with a chuckle. 'Hey I got to see the two new swords Knox made for Illyria, they're five feet long, must be an inch thick at the base and get this, the first eighteen inches of the blade from the grip is metallic blue.'

'I don't like blue much either' the girl declared.

'Don't tell Illyria' Willow warned, 'she _will_ take it personally.'

'So what's the news on the dragon leather jackets?' Natasha asked.

'There were too many people wanting them' Willow told her. 'So they're running a lottery with everyone that asked.'

'What's the point in having one' Molly asked. 'It's not like anyone will believe you when you tell them' she pointed out.

'_I'd_ know' Natasha replied crossing her fingers.

'We had to get the Guardian to enchant some leatherworking tools' Willow told them, 'the stuff just won't cut otherwise.'

'And _another_ good reason to have one' Natasha said crossing the fingers on her other hand.

'So how's Euro-Slaying?' Willow asked.

'Like Yank-Slaying but with more castles' Molly replied. 'We were up in Scotland last week, rain never stopped, thank God we're not based up there, it makes England look warm and dry. I think I was in California too long, I went soft.'

'That was all the Twinkies' Natasha told her, poking her in the stomach with a pair of still crossed fingers.

'And _you_ don't get to borrow the scythe until last' Molly told her. 'Going to be in town long?' she asked Willow, 'We're going clubbing later on'

'Do you mean dancing or with real clubs?' Willow asked.

'Maybe a little of both' Molly replied.

'I'll pass' Willow told her. 'Is there anything you want taken back to LA?' she asked.

'How about her' Molly replied, pointing to Natasha.

'Can't teleport with passengers' Willow replied, 'sorry.'

Molly shrugged. 'It was worth a try' she responded with a sigh.

Willow looked around, the doors were closed but she leaned in closer anyhow. 'So how are you getting on with Wesley's Dad?' she whispered.

'We need to get them DNA tested because I don't see the family resemblance' Molly replied. 'He's alright, not as bad as I thought he was going to be, but if I had the choice we'd have the other Wyndham-Pryce here instead' she told Willow, 'at least you could take him somewhere without being embarrassed at the company.'

'He really cramps our style' Danielle interjected, nodding in agreement with Molly.

'If we put in a request could we get a younger watcher?' Natasha asked. 'Emily maybe?' she asked.

'I'd settle for one of the twins' Molly interrupted with a grin.

Willow smiled. 'I'll talk to Giles' she told them.

'Not Deborah' Molly said quickly, 'I bet she'd be a real hard-arse' she joked.

'You should see the training program she's got Dana on' Willow agreed.

**Seattle – ****Washington**** – March 2004 **

Angel jumped the twelve foot gap between the apartment building roofs at the run, Spike landing behind him a split second later as they gave chase. 'I don't remember her being this fast' Spike declared. 'And how the bloody hell did she know we'd found her?'

'For the same reason we're looking for her you moron' Angel replied, grateful vampires didn't get out of breath, 'she's psychic.'

'Yeah and psychotic' Spike replied as they chased the willowy figure across the rooftops in the rain. It seemed like it hadn't stopped raining since they arrived, California might be a bit too sunny for a vampire's good health during the day but at least the night-time weather wasn't so reminiscent of his memories of back home in London. There was no way he'd be able to stick out this place very long, he'd get all maudlin and start missing his mum.

'We're running out of buildings' Angel noted, 'got her now.'

'Just don't hurt her' Spike replied.

'_What_?' Angel responded incredulously.

'Don't hurt her' Spike repeated. 'You bleeding well set her on fire before didn't you?'

'You were going to stake her to prove yourself to Buffy' Angel retorted.

'_You_ had a soul, _I_ had an excuse for being a bastard' Spike replied.

Angel jumped to the next roof they were gaining on her fast now even as they neared the end of the row of apartment buildings. She was agile but didn't have their endurance or their sanity, but even so after a ridiculous amount of time spent finding her in the first place she had then given them the slip twice more until they finally caught up again tonight and she was _still_ leading them a merry dance through the night.

'Should have bought some slayers along as backup' Angel observed.

'She's our problem, you know that' Spike replied.

Drusilla reached the last rooftop and looked around, it was too high for her to jump off, she'd break every bone in her body and they'd just walk down the apartment block stairs and collect her shattered form.

'Leave me alone Daddy' she called out.

'She's bleeding petrified' Spike observed as they landed on the final roof with her. 'We're not going to hurt you love' he told her. 'Honest' he added holding out his empty hands.

'You stink of soul and slayer' Drusilla hissed back then she seemed to shrink away. 'Don't hurt me daddy' she said to Angel. 'Don't burn me _please_' she begged.

'We're not going to hurt you Dru' Angel told her. 'We just need you to come with us.'

'I don't want my soul back' Drusilla said trembling with fear.

'We're not going to put your soul back Dru' Angel told her.

'We're not?' Spike asked.

'She's insane already' Angel replied. 'What do you think a century and a half of guilt and remorse would do to her?' he asked.

Spike blinked. 'We'd have to stake her' he replied, 'it would be mercy.'

Angel nodded. 'Having the demon running free inside is the only thing that's keeping her _this_ sane' he declared. 'Don't be a naughty girl Drusilla, let Daddy look after you again and everything will be alright.'

'You're _not_ Daddy' Drusilla replied.

'A second ago she said you were' Spike observed.

'She's nuts Spike, you were with her over a century, you should have picked up on the fact she's never been that stable or consistent' Angel replied.

'I think the loving her got in the way' Spike replied quietly. 'Dru honey, come with us and we'll go back to where you're staying and collect Miss Edith and then we'll take you both home' he told her, talking to her in the most smoothing tones he could muster.

Drusilla glared back at him. 'Taking me to the slayer' she hissed. 'Trying to prove you love her again.'

'We'll be a family again Drusilla' Angel told her, 'you, me and William.'

'And Grandmama?' Drusilla asked.

Angel flinched, he could lie but she'd know. 'Darla's gone' he told her.

'No she's not' Drusilla replied. 'What a funny thing to say' she told him.

'She's gone Dru' Spike told her. 'It's just us now.'

Drusilla's expression became stern. 'Grandmama lives on, the voices in the stars tell me so' she declared. 'You're _lying_' she hissed. 'Tainted and a liar, both of you.'

'Connor' Angel said quietly. 'Darla lives on in Connor.'

Spike looked at him. 'Well try that then' he said.

'Darla had a son' Angel told Drusilla, 'my son. Connor'

Drusilla looked at him, looked _into_ him for signs of deception. 'Daddy and Grandmama?' she asked. 'You made me a baby brother' she said, suddenly beaming.

'He's about this tall' Spike told her, holding out his hand at Connor's height. 'Too late to baby-sit the kid.'

'I can dress him up and play with him' Drusilla declared happily.

Spike made a coughing noise. 'Do you _remember_ the games she liked to play' he whispered.

Angel grimaced. 'He might _enjoy_ a few of them' he replied.

'Too right he would' Spike agreed. 'I always did.'

'I'd already trained her up by the time you got to her' Angel noted.

'Never did thank you for that, probably should have done' Spike told him, 'but I hated your guts because you still liked to go back to give her a refresher course once in a while.'

Drusilla had started rocking her arms holding an imaginary baby in them. 'And I'll sing baby brother to sleep, and tell him stories, and tuck him in at night…' she said.

'We'll talk about it on the way' Angel told her.

'If Grandmama isn't there to look after him I'll have to be the one to give him a bath' Drusilla declared.

'Don't ask _his_ opinion on that idea' Spike told Angel as the two of them flanked Drusilla either side and she linked arms with them.

'Don't worry I won't' Angel replied evenly.

Spike paused. 'So how do you think she's going to get on with Dana?' he asked. 'She's sorta like the anti-Dru when you think about it' he observed.

Angel shook his head sadly. 'You know somehow I just can't see this all ending well' he responded dejectedly.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This Fanfic runs and jumps between buildings on reviews_


	12. Chapter 12

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**Noé Restaurant– Los Angeles – March 2004**

Cordelia snapped her cell-phone shut and put it back into her handbag. 'They caught Drusilla' she told the others, 'heading back to LA now' she continued, reaching for her glass of sparkling mineral water. The reactions of the others matched her own feelings on the matter pretty well, especially the look of distaste on Gunn's face.

'Well that's either good or bad news depending how you look at it' Fred responded continuing to look over the menu. 'I know you weren't going to agree to Mexican again but why couldn't we have gone somewhere for a burger?' she asked. They had already asked the waiter to give them plenty of time to choose a meal given the slightly esoteric cuisine on offer.

'This place is raved about, it's somewhere to be seen if you don't want to _look_ like you're just going somewhere to be seen' she responded, looking over her own menu.

Xander looked at Cordelia askance, 'Still aching for that movie-star lifestyle?' he asked. 'You already spend money on yourself like a Hollywood starlet.'

Cordelia glared at him. 'I earned every penny I spend' she replied.

'Oh come on, you've taken over another room at the hotel just for clothes storage' Gunn interjected. 'How many pairs of shoes can you actually _use_ anyhow?' he asked.

'I like to coordinate' Cordelia responded defensively, 'and we can afford it.'

'There's a reason I keep the AI and Scooby accounts separate and you're it' Anya told her. 'Angel might have given you free reign to spend his share of the investment returns but its money that could be working for us on the stock-market' she pointed out. 'We took out a bank loan to pay for the Shadow Valley project, instead of paying for it directly, because we could make far more using the money to play the markets over the next year or so than we would lose on the interest payments.'

'It's not really playing when you already know what the shares are going to do' Fred noted.

'It does take some of the suspense out of it' Anya admitted, 'but I still get plenty of job satisfaction' she told them honestly. She decided it would probably be better _not_ to add it was reminiscent of the warm glow and sense of fulfilment she always got from a job well done during her first millennia or so as a Vengeance Demon, they were so limited in their acceptance of her past foibles.

'Talking of job satisfaction and Shadow Valley we break ground the first week of April' Xander announced. 'I've got a work crew lined up, should have the entire thing wrapped up by the end of the year' he told them.

'And we're going to have to live in a trailer for the first three months until the first of the accommodation blocks are finished' Anya complained.

'We?' Cordelia asked in surprise. She knew that Xander was going to personally supervise the construction of the new Slayer Headquarters and Academy being built over The First Evils old vineyard lair but nobody said anything about Anya going with him before.

Xander smiled. 'Anya is coming with me' he responded reaching over to take her hand. 'We're pretty much engaged again, or engaged to be engaged might be closer to the mark.'

Gunn grinned. 'Too cheap to buy her a ring?' he asked.

'Don't want to run the risk of hurting her again by doing something before I'm sure about it' Xander replied. 'Besides which Illyria told me if I broke Anya's heart again she'd rip mine out and give it to her' he continued. 'Coming from anyone else that line would have sounded like an idle threat but with her you just get the impression she really meant it' he added with a grimace.

'I like being the one who is closer friends with the most dangerous person in our circle for once' Anya said happily. 'You had the slayer and the witch in your corner for years but now I get to play the god card.'

Cordelia chuckled. 'If you have children they could have a god-godmother' she joked.

'Let's not talk about the c word' Xander told her quickly.

'I'm eleven-hundred years old and my biological clock is ticking again now, you can't avoid the topic forever' Anya told him.

'No but as Willow might say, by all the gods and goddesses, bar one, I can _try_' Xander replied, tongue set firmly in cheek.

'So where is Willow?' Gunn queried.

'Cleveland, having fun with Kennedy' Xander replied. 'I'd have asked her for details but she wouldn't provide the video evidence.'

'Men are so shallow' Cordelia remarked.

'Ain't that the truth' a woman's voice interrupted.

Fred looked up from the menu. 'Oh great' she said with a groan.

'Hi Denzel, didn't think this was your kind of place' the woman now standing behind Cordelia said. 'Looked you up at the hotel a while back hoping for some help but you weren't around.'

Gunn looked up at her. 'Hi Gwen, long time no see' he told her. 'Guys' he said turning to Anya and Xander. 'Gwen Raiden, Gwen this is Anya and Xander, and yes they're just as weird as we are so don't feel the need to stand on ceremony.'

Anya looked the woman up and down. Is she some kind of leather fetishist?' she asked Gunn with no attempt to be subtle about it.

'It's rubber and plastic and it's for insulation, _not_ kink' Gwen told her. 'Well I do like the look' she admitted.

'Insulation?' Xander asked.

'Just don't offer to shake hands' Fred advised. 'She'll either give you a fifty-thousand volt shock… or if her gloves are on she might steal your wristwatch' she added sarcastically.

'Sorry?' Xander asked in confusion.

Qwen pulled off her right glove and looked around to see if anyone was watching before holding out her index finger and pinky and discharging a bolt of lightning between them. 'Some girls carry a Tazer for self defence' she said. 'Mine came as standard' she told him with a half smile.

'Demon?' Anya asked. 'Not that I'm judging you on that, or the thief thing' she added. She never had returned the money she stole trying to impress that kid with the enchanted jacket, it was now being carefully laundered along with the other money and making a tidy profit to boot.

'No just a freak' Gwen replied. 'Sorry to run but I'm meeting a client. See you around' she told them.

'Maybe on America's Most Wanted' Cordelia said quietly as Gwen headed off.

'So is that the kind of person you were hoping to run into here?' Anya asked Cordelia.

'Well at least she's a millionaire thief, they don't let in the complete riff-raff' Cordelia replied.

'First Dave the software billionaire, now the rich electrothief with the great line in hookerware' Xander observed, 'you LA guys really _did_ run in different social circles than us small-town types' he said.

'Sunnydale was just _so_ provincial' Cordelia agreed.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – March 2004**

'So this is how you spend your evenings?' Buffy asked, checking her marshmallow on a stick before putting it back to the fire for a few more seconds.

'If we're not on night patrol or getting drunk, yeah pretty much' the slayer sitting cross-legged next to her replied.

'Getting drunk?' Buffy asked suspiciously, looking around. They were formed into a large circle right around the campfire and if it wasn't for the lack of songs and the fact that each of them had an assault rifle resting besides them it could have been a Girl Guides camp. The days' activities had been anything but as wholesome though. Buffy had accompanied them on a mission to raid enemy supply lines and as an observer to the operation she had been more than a little surprised by the way they operated. Buffy had slain many demons in her day but she had never before witnessed them being taking apart so clinically and methodically, the girls and their mercenary companions simply annihilated the opposition, no quarter offered nor even considered to offer. Buffy was simply grateful there were no human or construct soldiers amongst the enemy ranks that day, she suspected they would have been dealt with in an equally ruthless and detached manner and she didn't need those kind of images in her head.

'With _my_ scotch' Ashton noted from the other side of the circle. 'I'll be claiming it back on expenses' he declared.

'You've been letting these underage girls get drunk with mercenaries' Buffy said accusingly turning to Wesley who was sat between her and Illyria.

Wesley nodded. 'Be fair' he said, 'despite some of the girls attempts the mercenary contingent remains largely uncorrupted' he deadpanned before opening his mouth so Illyria could pop a marshmallow into his mouth. She was actually holding them into the fire with her own hand. It wasn't remotely hot enough to burn her, saved having to use a stick and most importantly it helped remind everyone else who the meanest bitch around the campfire was.

'They won't hold out for ever' one of the slayers joked.

'I was such a naïve innocent before I came here' Ashton responded sadly, playing along. 'I think I've fallen into bad company.'

'No just a badass platoon' Denise declared. 'The few, the proud, the _gunslayers_' she howled into the night, snatching up her G-36K and holding it aloft over her head. Her words immediately prompted a chorus of enthusiastic whoops and distinctly unladylike grunts and a few others also mimicked her pose with their own carbines.

One arm around Wesley's shoulders, the other outstretched towards the flames with another marshmallow held between thumb and forefinger Illyria smiled at the girls behaviour. They had made such considerable progress since they came here the God-King decided, so much more aggressive and militaristic than the frankly wussy slayers back on Earth. 'I doubt the forces of the Wolf, Ram and Hart expected you to react so forcefully and effectively against their use of firearm equipped human troops' she observed.

'They're nothing to worry about, just a bunch of mercenary pussies' one of the girls declared haughtily.

'Hey' Ashton responded in a hurt tone.

'You and Janko are honorary members of us girls' she added quickly.

The big Croatian whose silhouette was easily spotted from the shadow he cast on the trees behind grunted. 'We're honoured' he announced sardonically.

'I'd have gone with fucking emasculated myself' Ashton commented with a snort.

'Aw Foreign Legionnaires are so _cute_ when they're all hurt and pouty' Denise joked.

The mercenary sighed. 'I think I went overboard with moulding them in my image Jan' he told his friend.

'I warned you' Perković replied.

'No you didn't' Ashton disagreed.

'Well, meant to but already used up quota of words that week' the Croatian told him in his halting, albeit improving English, and with a grin on his face.

'Oh yeah, laugh it up Silent Bob' Ashton told him.

Perković's grin widened and then to the girls delight he reached up and turned his beret around so it faced backwards.

Buffy had already eaten her first marshmallow and was heating up another. 'If any of you want to portal out with me and Illyria tomorrow night you can' she told them. 'Not _you_, you're on contract' she told Ashton who had immediately stuck his hand up and who lowered it again, trying to look dejected. 'I'm being serious' Buffy told them, 'I already told Vi and the girls out on patrol with her that you can all decide to leave whenever you like' she announced. 'None of you signed up for the way this thing has turned out and nobody is going to criticise you for wanting to go back home.'

The girls fell silent and looked around at each other. Eventually one of them spoke up. 'Thanks for the offer Slayer-Chef but I think I speak for everyone when I say fuck that and just send us more help and more guns' she declared.

Illyria nodded her approval at the sentiment. These were troops who strike fear as well as wooden stakes into the hearts of their enemies, well armed, well trained and above all well motivated. 'When I return in two weeks I will bring both' she told the girls. 'Plus I will bring my own new weapons and fight alongside you.'

'Hell yeah' Denise responded appreciatively. 'If we run into enough demons could we go for one of those pyramid of skulls deals like I saw you had during weapons training in Vahla ha'nesh?' she asked hopefully. 'That'll demoralise the bastards, finding a bunch of their friends heads all neatly stacked' she opined, the notion greeted by more than a few nods of agreement although she wasn't really being serious.

Buffy blinked, this Pylean War thing _really_ wasn't working out how she planned she decided, whereas meanwhile however for her part Illyria, taking Denise at her word, felt very much like either doing the dance of joy or making a highly undignified "squee" noise, both of which urges she resisted. Add in the fact the Old One was going to get sex from Wesley for the first time in weeks this was turning out to be an _exceptionally_ good day she decided.

'No offence boss' Ashton called across to Buffy, 'but your troops are starting to scare the shit out of me' he told her only half in jest.

Wesley leaned over towards Buffy. 'I know we originally planned on six month tours but I'm starting to lean towards the idea that we should rotate them back to Earth after three months in the field' he whispered. 'Before they end up _completely_ sociopathic and irredeemable I mean' he suggested.

'Yeah that seems a good idea' Buffy agreed wholeheartedly. If _Wesley_ of all people was worried about their mental wellbeing they must be getting seriously unhinged out here she decided.

**Caverns – Cuyahoga Falls – March 2004**

'So is this really your idea of a fun date?' Willow whispered quietly as she followed Kennedy and most of her team through the winding limestone cave system flashlight in one hand but keeping the other one free in case she needed to witch things up a bit.

Wishing she had taken more care to waterproof her boots, or maybe put on a pair of those Gore-Tex socks Sandy had suggested, Kennedy tried to ignore her sodden feet and half turned back towards her girlfriend. 'We didn't even know these caves were here' she said. '_You_ were the one that said you were picking up a vibe, _I_ was planning a candlelit supper' she retorted.

'I should have kept my mouth shut' Willow replied splashing through another of the puddles that filled every depression in the cave floor. In heavy rains this place probably filled up completely she decided, hoping they weren't going to get a sudden downpour. 'The entrance _was_ concealed by a spell though, that can't be good news.'

'I concur' Stephen responded, his own boots keeping the water out nicely since he was more than anal enough to spend time waterproofing and polishing them himself. 'Any incidence of magic this close to a Hellmouth is almost certainly indicative of malevolent activity of some kind.'

Willow frowned. 'That's a sweeping judgement' she replied. '_I_ used to use magic near a Hellmouth all the time' she pointed out.

'And _you_ once tried to destroy the world' Stephen replied. Game, set and match he thought to himself trying to resist the urge to smirk.

Willow muttered something unpleasant, Spike was right, nearly trigger _one_ measly apocalypse and they'll be throwing it back in your face forever she thought. 'Magicks are getting stronger up ahead' she announced.

'Hey what's that?' Kennedy queried, shining her own flashlight against the cave wall.

Stephen took a couple to steps to bring himself nearer and traced the carvings etched into the rock with his fingers. 'Phoenician script' he said. 'Newly carved but I wouldn't expect it to be ancient, the Phoenicians were great sailors but even they didn't have trade routes that reached out as far from here' he said with a chuckle. They might have dominated the Mediterranean coast a thousand years before Christ but the North American Great Lakes were a bloody long way to row a galley.

'What's it say?' Kennedy asked.

'Worship he that sees the future and the past and be rewarded' Stephen answered then frowned 'That rings a bell somehow' he said, 'give me a couple of minutes to think about it.'

'Think on the move' Kennedy told him.

'Easier said than done' Stephen responded, following on behind as Kennedy led off. 'Us male types can't multitask like you females.'

'He uses that excuse not to do housework too' Kennedy told Willow.

'And I provided peer reviewed research to back up the argument' Stephen noted. 'Future and the past' he pondered quietly to himself, now why did that sound so familiar?

'Ooh flaming torches' Jackie said loudly, spotting the first of what turned into a series that led even deeper into the cave, they must have already gone a couple of miles in and the water cut passage through the rocks continued to wind it's way onwards. 'This is like an adventure movie' she said.

'Watch out for huge rocks rolling towards you' Kennedy replied. 'Or really hard smacks around the head for making so much noise' she hissed as Jackie's voice echoed down the passage.

'Sorry' Jackie apologised.

'You always are' Kennedy retorted. 'I want dead quiet from now on.'

'_Does that include me_?' Willow asked telepathically.

'_No and could you include Stephen on this conference call_?' Kennedy asked.

'_Well I was going to talk dirty but if you don't mind him listening in…_' Willow replied. '_Stephen are you there_?' she asked.

The watcher nearly jumped out of his skin. '_Bloody hell you scared the crap out of me doing that_' he complained.

'_Get a grip_' Kennedy told him. '_Got an answer yet_?' she asked as they followed the row of flaming torches.

'Berith' Stephen answered. '_Phoenician demon that could answer questions on both the past and future_' he answered. '_Came to me just before Willow tuned into Travers FM_.'

'_A Seer demon_?' Willow asked.

'_Presumably_' Stephen replied. '_Could also turn other metal into gold hence the reward I would surmise_' he added. '_That's the good news, the bad is that in other mythology he was also a Great Duke of Hell that commanded legions of lesser demons_.'

'_Well of course he did_' Kennedy responded wryly.

The caverns opened up and the group found itself standing before a twenty-feet high red stained limestone statue, plus to everyone's astonishment a trio of quite ordinary looking teenage girls who could have easily been from among their own ranks.

'What the hell is going on here?' Kennedy asked loudly, the three girls having spun to face them as they walked in.

'Who are you?' one of them asked.

'We're the people carrying the weapons that's who we are' Kennedy replied. 'Who are _you_?' she asked. 'Are they demons in disguise?' she asked turning towards Willow.

'I don't think so' Willow answered, 'but I detect magic' she added. 'You're not doing something really stupid like trying to raise Berith here are you?' she asked, pointing her flashlight at the statue.

'No we were just asking questions' one of the girls replied. 'Something led us to this place months ago, you can ask it questions and it answers you' she said. 'In your head I mean.'

'Bloody hell' Stephen said walking over to them. 'Show me your left hand please' he told one of them.

The girl looked reluctant. 'Do it or I'll beat the crap out of you' Kennedy declared, her tone of voice achieving the desired result.

'Silver ring' Stephen said taking her hand. 'To talk to Berith you've got to wear a silver ring on your finger' he told Kennedy then burst out laughing recognising the verse inscribed on the ring 'First Thessalonians 4: 3-4' he said. 'God wants you to be holy, so you should keep clear of all sexual sin. Then each of you will control your body and live in holiness and honour' he quoted then led the girls hand go. 'Fucking abstinence rings' he said.

'You're shitting me' Kennedy responded.

'Another triumph for Christian Fundamentalism' Stephen joked then his face froze 'Hang on you say you've been coming here months?' he asked with some concern in his voice.

'Yes' the girl answered nodding.

Stephen looked into her eyes. 'Other than ask questions did you by any chance do anything else?' he asked, narrowing his eyes.

'Sometimes if we bought along cheap jewellery it got turned into gold' she told him then paused. 'And he told us if we repeated some words in front of the statue once a week he'd make us like totally rich.'

'Shit' Willow swore. 'I'm betting this isn't good' she opined.

'Berith is a liar unless you ask a direct question' Stephen told them, 'otherwise you can't believe a word he says' he continued. 'According to legend his power peaks in June every year, I'm going to hazard a guess the apocalypse is coming a month later than normal in 2004' he added. 'Can I borrow that ring please?' he asked holding out his hand towards the girl.

The girl nervously slid it off and handed it to him. He slid it onto his little finger as it wouldn't fit on any other and stood before the statue presenting the ring before it. 'Berith' he said. 'Are you going to rise with your Legions?' he asked.

After a few seconds Stephen turned to face Kennedy. 'Cancel your summer vacation' he told her.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_Needing to wear a Silver Ring to conjure Berith is "accurate" demonology (as is the other stuff about him). The fact that in real life yet another study came out a couple of days ago showing that abstinance-only sex-education doesn't work is a "blessed" coincidence and I laughed my arse off realising how well timed it was :-p . I was going to introduce Berith anyway because of his knowledge of the future (good counterfoil to Illyria knowing it too)._


	13. Chapter 13

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – March 2004**

Sat in a chair Drusilla looked down at the thick silver bracelet as they snapped it into place on her wrist. 'It doesn't go with my other jewellery' she complained as the man fitting it sealed the lock mechanism closed. They had her in the basement downstairs, two slayers with crossbows stood by the stairs up to the hotel and another was pointing a Taser pistol at her. Spike and Angel were stood either side in case she needed restraint but she was being as meek and submissive as you could hope for, allowing the nerd in the white lab-coat to go about his business.

'I can't believe Wesley kept that as a souvenir' Angel observed to Fred stood beside him as Knox finished securing the device.

Fred smiled. 'It has a few modifications courtesy of yours-truly' she told him reaching over to tap the bracelet, trying not to let her concern of being so close to Drusilla show. 'One third magic, one third medieval technology and one third twenty-first century electronics' she told him indicating the engraving on it. 'You'd almost think it was destiny' she joked.

Angel smiled back 'The XXI on the thing meant twenty-one victories needed to obtain your freedom' he told her. 'Octavian Matches, two demons enter one demon leaves' he explained.

'Here's the deal' Knox told Drusilla, 'break it and face the wheel' he added, grinning at his own joke. 'If you go anywhere we don't want you to in the Hyperion the bracelet will give you a fifty-thousand volt reminder that you're lost' he told her. 'Get more than a hundred yards from the hotel without permission and it'll disintegrate you' he continued more seriously. 'There's a tracking device embedded with a GPS transponder that tells us where you are anywhere on Earth to within twenty-five yards and if you try to disable or take off the bracelet you'll regret it because first it'll shock you and then if you keep trying it'll turn you to dust' he advised.

'Nasty jewellery' Drusilla told the thing, 'bad bracelet' she chided wagging the finger of her other hand at it.

Spike shook his head. 'Could have been a lot worse love' he told her. 'I might have kept the chip they took out of me noggin as a souvenir and they'd be putting that in you instead.'

'I wouldn't want them seeing my insides' Drusilla responded. 'They don't even love my outsides.'

'Vivisect one vampire you've cut open them all' Knox responded. 'We've got a remote control for the bracelet so you can shock her with a push of a button' he told Angel, 'might help with behavioural modification if that's what you're planning' he continued. 'Negative reinforcement or maybe aversion therapy would work wonders' he suggested. 'Wolfram and Hart made great progress in the area' he noted.

'Aversion therapy?' Spike repeated. 'Like bleeding Clockwork Orange?' he asked.

'Help cure her of her desires for a bit of the old ultra-violence' Knox replied with a grin.

Drusilla glared at Knox. 'I don't like him' she said. 'Can I eat him?' she asked.

Angel gave the request a great deal more serious consideration than Knox would have liked. 'Sorry Dru I don't like him much either but he's useful to keep around' he replied eventually.

'Like Dalton, you remember him don't you Love?' Spike asked her.

'Only one with half a brain' Drusilla responded remembering their old intellectual vampire minion '_He_ was a wanker too' she noted. 'Killed by a demon shaded as the sky though not the one you worship' she told Knox. 'Can I see baby brother now?' she asked Angel hopefully.

Fred looked at him quizzically. 'Connor?' she asked, Angel nodding in response. 'She knows he's your _actual_ son not just a vampire you sired?' she queried.

'I'm not stupid' Drusilla interrupted curtly and crossed her arms. 'I want to see my baby brother' she insisted.

'He's not here' Angel told her. 'You can see him tomorrow' he promised. 'We'll take you to your room for now' he continued. 'So have you got that remote control?' he asked Fred.

Fred passed him a small device. 'Shock level is variable from "ouch" to "scream" and turn the dial all the way up you might even get some smoke' she told him. 'We weren't sure how much pain she could take.'

'Anything less than excruciating isn't going to motivate her' Spike opined. 'She likes a little pain to be honest.'

Drusilla giggled. 'Bad girls need discipline' she said. Then looked around, there was a cage nearby. 'Daddy keeps a bad girl in there' she said, 'belongs to him and the moon' she said then frowned. 'I don't want a new step-mummy that smells like doggie' she declared causing Spike to have to choke back laughter.

'Wow she really is psychic' Fred said in surprise.

'Oh yeah' Spike agreed, 'if she wasn't so bloody cryptic with it sometimes she'd be amazing' he said. 'Of course the Paddy Ninja wannabe here sent her off the deep end before he turned her.'

Angel ignored the comment about his ancestry and taste in clothes and reached over to stroke Drusilla's hair, she almost purred in response. 'She wasn't really all there before Darla and I even met her' he said. 'The sight will do that to you, Angelus just… helped her along' he told them.

'I was going to be a nun but Daddy taught me bad habits' Drusilla joked.

'She's been using that one since the 1890's' Spike noted. 'Never one for new material were you Dru?'

'Tried out a Chaos Demon once' Drusilla retorted causing Spike to scowl which in turn led her to smirk.

Angel took her hand. 'Come on Dru we'll take you to your new room' he told her. 'It's been a long day and you need your beauty sleep' he told her.

'Will you read me a story?' she asked sweetly.

**The Cotswolds - Gloucestershire - March 2004**

Molly looked down over the edge of the abyss. 'There's a hole in the world' she said. 'Who knew?' she asked rhetorically, resting her scythe on her shoulder as she turned back to her companions.

Drogyn the Battlebrand stood beside her, his hands clasped together behind his back. 'I still do not understand the purpose of this visit' he told her.

'The Deeper Well is on our patch so as the local Constabulary we thought we'd better drop in to make sure the inmates are properly secure' the slayer told him. 'You know if your people had just _asked_ who we were when we arrived, instead of attacking us like maniacs, we wouldn't have had to beat so many of them up' she told him reasonably.

'The guards are… not known for their initiative' Drogyn told her honestly. Despite making sure to look inoffensive Molly and the three other slayers with her had been set upon as soon as they approached the tree that contained the entrance to the Deeper Well, they had however subsequently defended themselves more than adequately.

Some of the demon guards would remain unconscious for hours after their poorly advised assault on the four teenagers. Even when trying not to cause mortal injury a slayer packed quite a punch, especially one wearing the standard issue brass-knuckles they all carried now. Various items were now generic slayer equipment; as well as the ubiquitous collapsible swords and spring loaded wrist stakes on their forearms most of the girls chose to wear a Fairbairn-Sykes commando dagger strapped to their ankle, brass knuckles in a pocket and if they were in reasonably heavy action an equipment belt with a scabbard for one of the enchanted Roman style Gladius short-swords on one hip and a holstered Glock 31 on the other. You had to demonstrate proficiency with all of the above before they would let you patrol these days, although some were heard to protest that if the rules had always been like that Buffy wouldn't be allowed out herself, she was a notoriously bad shot with a firearm.

'Well it's a good thing _my_ people have some restraint or yours would all be dead right now instead of just roughed up a bit' Molly told Drogyn. 'We're going to leave you one of our satellite telephones so we can call ahead the next time we drop in so lets try not to have a rematch' the slayer requested. 'Don't worry, we'll make sure the Deeper Well is ex-directory' she joked.

Drogyn indicated his acquiescence to the slayers request then frowned. 'You say you heard of this place through Illyria?' he asked. 'We do not get many visitors and those that do are typically the misguided remnants of our guests followers seeking their release.'

'Yeah' Molly replied. 'Our Blue Meanie not yours I mean' she told him. 'You did make sure _your_ Illyria is secure down here when you found out her followers got her out in the other universe right?' she queried. 'Last thing we need is another one of them running around. The one we've got is dangerous enough already thanks and I bet yours isn't as cuddly as ours.'

Drogyn nodded. 'We have increased both our physical and mystical security' he replied. 'I would choose not to have to try and bring them back here if they got out but it would be my duty to try' he told the slayer. 'Illyria? _Cuddly_?' he asked in surprise.

Molly pursed her lips. 'Well cuddly might be exaggerating' she admitted. 'Well unless you mean with Wesley' she added. As for the security I'm glad to hear it' she told him. 'Of course Old One's aren't the problem they used to be back in the days these babies weren't in full scale production' she said indicating her scythe, 'but we'd still prefer the mouldy gits under lock and key' she said honestly. The idea of messing with something that might be as mean as the Smurf God wasn't appealing in the least.

'They sense your weapon, even from their sarcophagi' Drogyn told her. 'It disturbs them' he noted. 'Their spirits whisper to me from the Well and they sense the aura it generates around it' he said then rounded on Natasha. '_Please_ don't drop your litter in there' he told the slayer who looked like she was about to throw an empty chewing gum wrapper into the Deeper Well. Natasha shrugged and stuck it into her jacket pocket, probably best not spit the used gum in there later on either she decided.

Molly gave Natasha a look then turned back to Drogyn, 'Glad to hear it' she said, 'about them not liking the scythes I mean' she explained. 'They put Smurfette's, I mean Illyria's, teeth on edge too, almost as much as enclosed spaces' she told him looking around. 'And the claustrophobia makes a lot more sense now after seeing this place' she observed. 'So are you really immortal?' she asked randomly.

'You are extremely well informed' Drogyn told her raising his eyebrows.

'Knowledge is power' Molly told him, 'I write everything useful down that I hear so I don't forget it' she told him. 'Like the outfit, very Monty Python and the Holy Grail' she noted. 'So how _do_ you get the job of Warden at a supernatural Prison?' she asked curiously.

'Well it wasn't from some farcical aquatic ceremony if that's what you were thinking' Drogyn replied wryly. 'The immortality is a prerequisite, as is a reputation as a warrior of the light

Molly's jaw dropped. 'You got the Monty Python reference' she said in surprise.

'Why does everybody think if you live in a cave it isn't very nice and you don't have electricity?' Drogyn asked rhetorically. 'It's actually very nice, I have indoor plumbing and a television' he told her. 'It's usually connected up to my Xbox now though' he admitted. 'I suspect the note from Illyria advising me to get one was a despicable act of revenge for its incarceration, the wretched device eats up my free time to a ludicrous degree' he complained bitterly, 'and even worse several of the demon guards demanded one for their rec-room after I foolishly let them play on mine' he continued. 'I had not faced such insurrection since they went on strike insisting on an increase in the beer ration' he told her with a sigh.

Molly decided to change the subject fast, she got the impression he didn't get to talk to people much and didn't want to start him off on a major vent of his career woes. 'We say "she" not "it" when we talk about Illyria' she told him. 'Looks like a girl, acts like a girl… well sort-of, dating a guy…' she continued. 'Well you know, if it walks, talks and quacks like a duck you call it a duck' she told him, 'previous tentacles notwithstanding.'

Drogyn shook his head. 'You should not allow yourself to fall into the trap of appearances' he told her. 'The Old One is dangerous' he continued, 'would you burn someone as a witch because they weighed the same as a duck?' he asked deadpan.

Molly burst out laughing. 'Good one' she told him. He was a weird sort of bloke but there was a definite sense of humour there which she hadn't expected. He was cute too in a medieval kinda way she decided, and the age gap between them was seriously sub Wes/Illyria, or even Xander/Anya most likely might be worth flirting with, there had definitely been a lack of male company that_ looked_ less than sixty for too long. Being a slayer, especially a slayer with her level of authority and responsibility took up far too much of her time. 'I don't suppose you've got a list of the prisoners in here for our records?' she asked.

'Only carved into the stone' Drogyn replied, indicating runes and symbols chipped out of the rock all around.

'Can't read it' Molly told him. 'That's okay we'll take pictures and email them back to LA' she continued reaching into a pocket and pulling out a cell-phone with a digital camera fitted.

Drogyn watched the young girl as she started using the device to record the inscriptions. 'Are you going to be here long?' he asked.

'Just a quick visit, heading down to Devon to check out security at a Coven down there then back to London' Molly told him. 'Probably drop back in occasionally to make sure everything's going okay' she added.

'I will endeavour to be a more gracious host next time' Drogyn told her, 'and welcome you as other warriors of the light with arms more open than wielded' he promised.

'It would make a nice change' Molly told him. 'Become a slayer, meet new and interesting people from ancient cultures and poke them with swords and pointy sticks is usually how it goes' she observed, half seriously.

Drogyn nodded, such was always the way to those that chose to hold the line against evil, there was always so damn much of it around. 'Then I hope MiLady that you would come to think of the Deeper Well as much as sanctuary to you as a jail for your foes' he told her.

Molly thought about it. 'Have you considered paint because it's really got a dank theme to it' she opined, 'some nice pastels maybe?' she suggested. 'I read that they put inmates in some American prisons in pink clothes as a punishment, you could spray paint up some of the sarcophagi the same colour.'

A freezing wind blew up from the Deeper Well and almost seemed to blow right through them all. Molly felt an icy chill reach deep inside her, her bones seemed to freeze and she shuddered.

'They liked that idea even less that they like the scythe being here' Drogyn told her seriously.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – March 2004**

They took Drusilla upstairs and into the lobby. As she walked in, still flanked by Spike and Angel it wasn't _quite_ true to say it was the cliché that you could hear a pin drop but the sound of safety catches being released on forearm collapsible swords was fairly evident among the half dozen or so slayers present. Unlike Wesley's prototype the production model was fitted with a simple switch that had to be correctly positioned for the mechanism to engage, it prevented the sword unfolding itself when not required which was a special bonus to those users who tended to wave their arms about animatedly when they spoke. With the original collapsible sword you could accidentally impale a friend by merely gesticulating a tad too vigorously during a conversation, and that would be a major social faux-pas at the very least.

'Slayers, slayers everywhere but only one real one' Drusilla declared, fixing her eyes on one particular girl in the Lobby. 'You're real' she said. 'I made you' she said happily.

Faith walked over and looked Drusilla up and down. 'Guess you did' she admitted then without warning threw a punch that sent the vampire sprawling. 'Never met Kendra but I reckon if she's watching she deserves to see that' Faith declared to a chorus of cheers from the other slayers, they all knew the story. 'She steps out of line and we lock her in a cage and weld the door shut' she told Angel.

'She's unhinged enough already' Spike pointed out, helping Drusilla back up. 'You need her as stable as possible or you'll never understand what the hell she's blathering on about trust me' he said. 'It's bleeding hard enough when she's acting half way normal.'

'And that's the only reason we haven't _already_ caged the bitch' Faith responded. 'She bares the fangs and she's going to get zapped, she tries the evil eye hypnosis shit and she's going to get a beating, she hurts anyone here and I will personally hold her face-down in a bucket of Holy Water' she declared. 'Do you understand me bitch?' she asked Drusilla.

The vampires tongue tasted her own blood which was dripping from her split lip. 'Caged' she said.

'That's right I'll put you in a cage' Faith told her.

'Not me you' Drusilla replied. 'Pretty bird, escaped from the cage out there but still trapped in the cage in here' she said tapping her head. 'I made a fun slayer Daddy are you proud of me?' she asked. 'Not boring like the others' she said smiling at Faith, it was almost maternal and frankly scared the crap out of Faith a lot more than a set of fangs would have done. If Drusilla's little forays into her own mind had a general theme it was family, by killing Kendra she had activated Faith so to her mind she was almost the slayers sire, or even her mummy. It was as it happens one of the extremely few occasions in her life when Faith's own mother didn't really seem so bad.

Drusilla tilted her head slightly and sniffed the air. 'Hello little girl' she said turning towards the reception desk.

A young girl sheepishly stuck her head around the side of the desk from where she'd been hiding. 'Go to bed Deborah' Faith ordered. Giles would normally have kept an eye on her but he was at the airport catching the first available flight to Cleveland. It sounded like Ken had really run into something heavy over there and they wanted to try and nip it in the bud before it got out of hand. Willow was a lot bigger with the practical magics than Giles but he still had a lead in theory, especially demonology and prophesies.

'I just wanted to take a look' the girl responded. 'I mean… it's _Drusilla_' Deborah exclaimed. 'She's almost as famous as Angelus but still evil' she added wondrously.

Drusilla smiled sweetly at the girl. 'Would you like to play with Miss Edith?' she asked holding up her doll invitingly.

Angel reached for the remote control which he had stuck in his pocket, but before he could decide whether or not to give Drusilla a reminder of the terms of her quasi parole a figure jumping from the balcony above landed right beside him, grabbed hold of Drusilla and then body-slammed her to the floor hard before crashing down on top of her, holding a wooden stake ready to strike as she straddled the vampires chest.

'No' Faith yelled.

Dana held the strike and growled, it was primal as if she were channelling the very first slayer herself. Her eyes looked deep into Drusilla's own, they were almost hypnotic in themselves.

Angelus made Drusilla, sent her mad, considered her his masterpiece. Another had made Dana, psychological torture and sharp syringes full of drugs creating a mirror of Drusilla's own madness but now in slayer form. It was absolutely terrifying Drusilla shrank back and looked up at her in fear. 'Help me Daddy' she pleaded.

'We need her alive Dana' Faith told the slayer calmly and quietly, trying to sound soothing.

Dana lowered the stake to Drusilla's chest and pressed the point against it just over the heart. She lowered her face so that it was just above Drusilla's own, almost close enough to kiss, Dana's long hair hanging down to cover them both. 'Vampire' she hissed then leaned even closer, sticking out her tongue to lick Drusilla's blood off her split lip, 'I know you vampire' she declared turning her head to the side to spit it out. 'Will be watching you' she promised then in one smooth movement she rolled off Drusilla and stood up.

Every set of eyes on her Dana walked over to Deborah. 'Past your bed time' she told the young girl, taking her hand and leading her towards the stairs. Deborah might have protested but she got the distinct impression Dana would have carried her if she resisted.

Drusilla stared at Dana as she led the girl away. 'She's _mad_' she declared in horrified tones.

'Fair assessment' Spike agreed. 'You could start a mutual support group' he suggested.

'Superpsychos Anonymous' Faith offered. 'Word of advice' she told Drusilla who was once again being helped up by Spike, 'don't be looking at the watcher twins funny or she'll be searching the kitchen for some fava beans to have with your liver.'

'No Chianti?' Angel asked.

'Not allowed alcohol with the medication she's on' Faith told him with a shrug.

Drusilla gave Miss Edith a big hug, squeezing the doll tightly. 'I want to go to my room now' she said, hoping it had a big lock on the door to keep the crazy slayer out.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This fanfic runs on reviews_


	14. Chapter 14

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – March 2004**

'Part of me was hoping you were going to have to stake her' Buffy admitted as Drusilla was bought into the conference room. The slayer had only got back from Pylea a couple of hours before and frankly could have done without having to deal with any more complications in her life but she knew it was better to confront problems head on, prevaricating never got you anywhere.

Spike showed Drusilla to a chair directly across from Buffy and sat down beside her. Angel was in Connor's room giving him some much needed pointers on dealing with Drusilla who was still demanding to see her "baby brother" and was on the verge of a major sulk. Given that a Drusilla sulk was a truly epic thing to behold Angel had decided to bite the bullet and let her meet his son, to say he was unhappy about it was a serious understatement however.

Buffy leaned forward and pushed a cup and saucer towards Drusilla, there was no need to be a poor host and they were certainly better off if she wasn't hungry.

Reaching for the crockery Drusilla picked up the cup and eyed the contents disparagingly, the aroma wafting onto her nasal receptors. 'Yucky Pigs blood' she complained, sticking out her tongue.

'It's got Otter blood in it too and a splash of Vole' Buffy replied evenly. 'Dawn prepared it' she explained to Spike who had raised his eyebrows. 'I don't want to know why she's suddenly become a blood cocktail expert' she told him.

Spike shrugged, Dawn had been trying out various combinations on him and the five percent Otter, one percent Vole mix was the best yet, fruity but without being overpowering to the taste-buds, and a hell of a lot better than straight Pigs Blood.

Drusilla daintily sipped the contents of the cup. She had been bought up with good table manners and would never slurp from fine china, the additions made it palatable at least but it was still akin to Decaf Coffee, it was better than nothing, but not remotely a replacement for the genuine article. A nice pint of O-Negative would have really hit the spot just then Drusilla thought to herself but she doubted anyone would be willing to donate and if she helped herself they might let the crazy slayer loose on her.

'You know why you're here?' Buffy asked.

'To see baby brother' Drusilla replied. 'Daddy is getting him all ready to meet me' she told Buffy happily.

The Slayer sighed. 'No I meant do you know why _we_ want you here?' she asked. 'I couldn't care less why _you_ want to be here' she stated.

Drusilla scowled. Slayers were so rude and this one was even more horrid than most, she had killed Great Grandpapa and stolen her Spikey's heart away. Nasty, stinky slayer, she thought then smirked. 'You need me because they made you blind and I can see' she replied. Even the silly Powers-That-Be knew what a spiteful, mean slayer she was, the vampire decided.

'Not as dumb as I thought' Buffy responded, 'of course it wouldn't take an awful lot of brains for that to be true.'

'William had a chip in his brain' Drusilla said, 'still got one on his shoulder about Daddy' she said. 'Nothing in his head now but thoughts about you… and putting Tabasco sauce in Daddy's blood' she added turning towards Spike and given him a look of reproach. 'The boys are ghastly pranksters' she told Buffy. 'When daddy was really daddy, and Spikey was really Spikey, they used to put crosses in each others beds' she confided.

'Well he bloody started it' Spike protested before a glare from Buffy stopped him from continuing his spirited defence of his ongoing, and occasionally very petty, campaign against Angel. The cross thing really was started by Angel, or rather Angelus. Spike still clearly remembered pulling back the covers without looking, jumping in and then doing a very convincing impression of a Harrier Jump Jet eighty years before they invented the damn things, shooting straight up into the air and howling like a Rolls Royce Jet Turbine.

'I am always saddened to learn that even if they were to live several normal lifetimes men never grow up' a cold, harsh voice interrupted from the doorway, 'it robs me of my hopes for my Wesley to ever give up his more juvenile habits.'

'Illyria' Buffy greeted the newcomer, 'don't you spend most of your free time playing computer games?' she asked wryly.

The God-King fired back an icy look that could freeze lava. 'They're good for hand-eye coordination and maintaining my superior reflexes' she replied evenly.

'I'm sure' Buffy replied sardonically. 'What the hell is wrong with her?' she asked pointing at Drusilla who was staring wide-eyed at Illyria.

Images flashed through Drusillas head at rapid pace faster and faster becoming a blur in her mind, aeons worth of history, one vision after another, it was overwhelming. She screamed and put her hands over her ears, closed her eyes, tried to keep it out but it made no difference.

Suddenly Drusilla's eyes sprang back open and the screaming stopped. A tiny trickle of blood ran down from her left nostril and slowly began to drip. 'Handsome man saved from the monsters only to become the worst of all' she said. 'Armies marching, banners flying, rivers of blood' she moaned.

'Bloody hell' Spike exclaimed. 'I think she just tuned into Old One FM.'

Buffy blinked. 'Too much wattage' she responded. 'I hope you haven't broken her' she told Illyria. 'These are hard to get' she added.

Spike glared at Buffy. 'She's a person' he told her curtly, reaching out a hand and taking one of Drusilla's. 'You alright Love' he asked.

Drusilla ignored him completely. 'Cities aflame, bodies stacked like cordwood' she murmured.

'That's enough Dru sweetheart, you'll make her nostalgic and melancholy again and call us muck.'

Buffy couldn't help but nod in agreement. 'Got to agree, couldn't handle another "In my day" lecture.'

Illyria glared at the slayer then smirked. 'They're usually better received by the audience than your speeches' she retorted.

Buffy glared back, Smurfette was getting bitchy.

'Conquest, death and destruction' Drusilla continued, oblivious to those around her, her eyes still transfixed on Illyria. 'Machines of war crushing demons beneath steel treads, explosions brighter than the sun, Empire and Glory.'

Spike frowned. 'I don't think she's talking about the past' he said slowly.

'Me neither and it's starting to creep me out' Buffy responded, casting a wary glance at Illyria.

'I could stand to hear more' the God-King interjected happily.

**Caverns – Cuyahoga Falls – March 2004**

Giles walked around the statue, it would have been impressive even if it wasn't twenty feet high, the carved stone sculpture depicting the Grand Duke of Hell in soldiers garb, a sword by his side.

'We're hoping that it's not a life sized depiction' Stephen observed wryly, leaning back against the cavern wall. Two fully armed slayers remained by the chamber entrance but otherwise they were alone, with Willow and Kennedy busy preparing items of the magical and non-magical variety to seal the cavern and the three girls who had been visiting the place regularly returned home with a stern rebuke never to do so again. Kennedy was good at stern rebukes.

'It _could_ be a half-scale model' Giles responded deadpan.

'That crown on the statues head is real gold' Stephen told him, pointing up at it. 'Willow levitated up for a closer look' he explained.

'It was probably just lead or something originally before Berith transmuted it' Giles responded. 'You know alchemists called the mythical element that turned base metal into gold after this character' he added. 'So what were you planning to do?' he asked.

Stephen stopped leaning against the rock wall and walked over to Giles. 'Well given that he stopped answering questions, and that he reputedly commands twenty-six legions we thought we'd blow this statue to little pieces for a start and put the best binding spell we can generate around the remains.'

'It's only a representation you know' Giles responded. 'It's not the real Berith turned to stone.'

Stephen shrugged. 'Of course' he said, 'but it is a locus of his power and a place of worship for him' he continued. 'Its destruction certainly can't hurt, well hopefully it'll hurt _him_, but it can't hurt _us_.'

Giles nodded. 'I did some quick research on the plane here using that new-fangled computer gadget they've been scanning the library onto' he told the younger watcher, pointing at his laptop bag now resting on the ground nearby.

'Rather more convenient to carry than a stack of books, if to your tastes somewhat lacking in the tactile pleasure of a nice leather bound tome I imagine' Stephen replied with a smile.

Giles nodded sadly. 'Berith isn't just any old Demon with a sideline in foretelling the future' he said. 'I think there's more going on than merely that' he said. 'Baal-Berith is mentioned in the Old Testament, it literally means "Lord of the Covenant".'

Stephen grimaced. 'The Covenant' he repeated. 'Wolfram and Hart, oh that's just bloody marvellous.'

'Yes I think it's a little bit too much of a coincidence too' Giles told him with a chuckle. 'I think we may even be looking at one of the Senior Partners.'

'This close to a Hellmouth that_ can't_ be good' Stephen observed. 'Think they've decided it's time for a more hands-on approach? Intervene directly, not through the local offices and the Circle of the Black Thorn?'

'Perhaps we've been too successful for our own good' Giles replied evenly.

'Berith's power peaks in June as I recall' Stephen replied.

Giles smiled approvingly. 'The _Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis_ was still on the Academy reading list when you were there then?' he queried.

'Yes but _Pseudomonarchia Daemonum _always seemed less florid and commercial' Stephen opined. 'If our crimson friend here does intend to show up I imagine he'll do so at the peak of his strength.'

'We've already dealt with a great number of powerful adversaries who should have been more of a challenge but who weren't because they either underestimated us or overestimated themselves' Giles reasoned. 'We've got to assume that eventually we'll meet one with enough brains to not go off half-cocked because of egotism and lack of preparation' he said. 'If we are dealing with a Senior Partner the size of their pan-dimensional domain and their vast assets must be taken as some evidence of a reasonably adequate IQ, moreover they are _extremely_ patient, I doubt waiting a few more weeks would be too taxing.'

Stephen crossed his arms. 'Well that gives us a few more weeks too' he said, 'to prepare a warm reception for the bastard I mean' the young watcher declared. 'Haven't met a demon yet that liked having an Incendiary Grenade or a Slayer Scythe stuck up his arse and we've got plenty of both these days.'

'You know Stephen we must beware of falling into the trap of overestimating ourselves and underestimating our foe as well' he warned. 'We don't want to risk losing people because we get sloppy or overconfident.'

Stephen straightened up. 'Well Sir I don't know what it's like back in LA these days but here in Cleveland we're _always_ right on the ball and sharper than ever' he declared haughtily.

'That's the spirit' Giles responded positively. 'So when is Willow due back with the supplies for the binding spell?' he asked.

'Shouldn't be too much longer' Stephen replied. 'I'm more worried about the explosives turning up.'

'How so?' Giles queried.

Stephen sighed. 'There's a very real possibility we might bring a fair chunk of Ohio crashing down into this hole' he said. 'We've never actually tried out Semtex Plastique before and I'm afraid Kennedy may overegg the pudding as it were.'

'Well at least it's only a section of park forest we'd be dropping into a cavern this time not a whole town' Giles reasoned.

'There is that' Stephen conceded then frowned. 'I do hope this isn't indicative of a trend' he added. 'We could become very unpopular in various circles, Black Thorn or otherwise, if our Standard Operating Procedure when dealing with Hellmouth orientated problems is a large crater.'

Giles considered the issue carefully. 'Good point' he agreed. 'We'll try and avoid listing it as a recommended tactic in the new handbook.'

'Best nip it in the bud before everyone's doing it' Stephen concurred.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – March 2004**

Buffy dropped into a chair and crossed her arms, Dawn what the hell is this about?' she asked tersely. 'I had a date with a bubble bath and a box of chocolates' she told her sister. 'You'd better have a good reason for dragging half the hotel away from whatever it is they were doing.'

Xander opened his mouth to say something but Anya cut him off. 'If you're planning to ask her if she'd like to double date don't say it' she told him.

'She knows me so well' Xander admittedly sadly.

'You'd have delivered the line better' Gunn told him reassuringly, standing up to pull Cordelia's chair out for her when she arrived. It always looked classy when English did it and she beamed at him.

Emily finished playing with the laptop now connected to the projector and turned it on. 'All yours' she told Dawn.

'Gee thanks' Dawn responded with a slight grimace. 'Okay I think that's everyone' she said looking around the conference room' she said. 'I wish Giles was here for this, he's good at this stuff.'

'Where's Blue?' Faith asked.

'Not invited and for a good reason' Dawn replied. 'She's on the roof playing on her laptop so that'll keep her out of our hair for a while.'

Buffy tapped her wristwatch meaningfully and narrowed her eyes at her sister who decided it might be wise to up the pace.

'Okay' Dawn began. 'As you may or may not know Molly and her crew dropped in on the Deeper Well to check it out' she told them. 'While she was there she took some pictures of the various inscriptions, runes and such and emailed them back here so we could take a look, we figured it would be worth seeing so with Giles in Cleveland Emily and I had a go' she explained as Emily pressed a remote control that dimmed the lights and projected the first slide onto the screen at the far end of the room.

'That's Old Norse' Anya observed, 'carved by someone with atrocious spelling' she added disparagingly.

'Right' Dawn agreed, 'most of the inscriptions are from known languages but we found a few that we couldn't figure out right away so we cracked open the books and got to work' she told them 'Most of it is just names of the various Demons they've got sealed in the well, some of it is gibberish and there's a fair chunk of graffiti which we think the guards put there over the years' she continued. 'There's some great jokes about Drogyn… which I'll save for a later time' she said after Buffy gave her a look.

'You didn't drag me away from the Passions Late Night Special for an archaeology lecture did you Knibblet?' Spike asked.

Dawn shook her head. 'No' she replied. 'Well partially' she admittedly, 'but you'll want to hear this' she told him. 'Well anyhow' she said continuing, 'we did eventually run into a great mass of stuff that we just couldn't translate, it wasn't in any of the books and when we tried asking Drogyn he didn't know either.'

'How did you ask Drogyn?' Angel queried.

'We telephoned him' Emily replied. 'Molly set up a satellite phone at the Deeper Well so we just gave him a bell and he told us he was none the wiser. He hasn't been working there all that long really, and the Well is ancient beyond belief, so it's not too surprising he's not sure what everything craved into the rocks says.'

Dawn nodded. 'So we thought we'd run into a brick wall until Emily suggested we try the Wolfram and Hart language database and that's when we found out what it was' she told them as Emily changed the slide to what appeared to be a mass of geometric symbols.

'Okay spill' Buffy told her. 'What's it say that's so interesting?'

Dawn frowned, her sister had no sense of occasion sometimes, this was a big deal to Dawn, she liked being useful beyond being a blood donor. 'Well to start with the word that cropped up the most was _Annwfn_' she explained. 'We had to sort that one out phonetically but it's the old Welsh word for the netherworld, where you go after you die I mean, spirits and stuff' she explained. 'The etymology of the word is also thought by some scholars to be "very deep".'

'Etymology?' Gunn queried.

'Study of the origins or root of a word' Dawn explained.

'Very Deep, as in the Deeper Well' Angel noted. 'Makes sense.'

'Right' Dawn responded, nodding. 'Well we were pretty happy at that one' she told him, so we kept right on with the translation' and then things started to get really weird, by which I mean kinda familiar' she told him. 'Especially to Emily' she said, indicating it was time for the English girl to take over.

Emily changed to another slide. 'A good chunk of this passage is worn away but this phrase here translated as "rise again in time of greatest need" and the next section mentioned what we thought at first was something about drawing the sword from the stone' she told them.

Spike grinned. 'The Arthur Legend' he declared.

'Yeah' Dawn agreed. 'It really got interesting when we checked and found out that not only was "Very Deep" the root for Annwfn but Annwyn in turn is thought a possible etymology for _Avalon_.'

'Avalon?' Spike repeated. 'Oh this gets better and better' he said, then looked around. 'When King Arthur died his body was taken to Avalon' he explained. 'The rest of the story goes that he rests there until the hour of England's greatest need when he will rise again.'

'Surprised he didn't show up in 1940' Xander observed. 'Maybe worse is yet to come for the mother-country' he suggested.

Emily changed slides again. 'So we were pretty pleased with ourselves' she admitted, 'until we got to this section' she told them. 'We think the legends got really badly screwed up at some point, probably intermixed with stories about some Romano-Celtic Warlord in the Dark Ages, but however it happened this text is a lot older than that' she said, then turned to address Buffy directly. 'You'll appreciate this especially' she told her, 'when we double checked the preliminary translations it didn't say about drawing a sword from the stone it said _scythe_.'

Buffy blinked and everyone looked at her. 'Are you trying to say I'm the rightful Queen of England' she asked eventually, 'because Giles and Wes even joked about that when I pulled the thing out of that piece of rock back at the vineyard' she told them, Faith nodding in affirmation.

'No it's just mentioned in passing as something that happens, part of a prophecy not as an indication that the one drawing the scythe is the rightful monarch' Emily told her. 'I'm afraid it's someone else gets the plum job' she added. 'You might want to start calling it Axe-calibur though' she suggested with a smile. 'I'll stop now and let Dawn translate the most interesting lines.'

Dawn took a breath. 'We've checked and rechecked but here it is' she told them. 'There's some other stuff too but the section that'll really knock your socks off goes like this: "Here lies Illyria, the once and future God-King".'

The room fell deathly silent.

'You're shitting me?' Faith asked eventually.

'Nope' Dawn replied. 'Piecing together other sections, the text is repeated in a few places so you can fill in the gaps' she explained, 'you also get "The Shaper of Things sleeps in Annwfn to rise again in the hour of greatest need".'

'Oh yay another prophecy' Cordelia responded. 'We've got such a great record with those things.'

Fred wasn't having any of it. 'But this _isn't_ the way things were supposed to turn out' she declared. 'Illyria created another timeline, all the prophecies wiped away' she pointed out.

'Prophecies can be changed in order to make others come true' Angel observed. 'Think about Connor' he said. 'Sahjhan altered the Nyazian Scrolls to try and save his life but the end result was that he died because of it, Connor came back from Quartoth a hell of a lot meaner than he would have been otherwise. Destiny isn't written in stone… even if it _is_ written in stone.'

'It's all wheels within wheels' Cordelia said. 'Even if it's not the PTB's, the Senior Partners or other random assholes like Jasmine playing with the levers the gears keep turning and if you club one destiny into oblivion another one comes along.'

'Didn't the Blue Meanie say you signed away the Shanshu' Spike asked Angel. 'In the original timeline she came from?'

'Yes' Angel replied, 'In my own blood to make it nice and legal in the demonic sense.'

'But that didn't happen _here_ so the Shanshu should still be in force and if it is the Vampire with a Soul _will_ become Human' Cordelia said. 'Illyria fixed a broken prophecy by making a parallel universe.'

'And maybe she also made another prophecy come true, in this case her own' Dawn noted. 'Maybe she really _is_ destined to rule again?' she noted. 'The once and _future_ God-King.'

'Which pretty much fits in nicely with all the stuff Drusilla was saying earlier on when she zoned out' Spike added. 'Oh yeah and I checked' he told Angel. 'The Shanshu doesn't say _which_ "Vampire with a Soul" so don't go automatically assuming it's going to be _you_ sunshine' he told him. 'Maybe _I'm_ going to be the real boy' he declared.

Angel rolled his eyes. 'Saves the world _once_ and he thinks he's special' he muttered under his breath.

Xander pursed his lips. 'So we're saying Illyria is the King who was destined to return' he said. 'So she's Arthur right?' he asked.

'Way to keep up Harris' Cordelia responded sarcastically.

'No you ain't getting it' Xander told her. 'When Wes gets back from Pylea who gets to tell him he's Guinevere?' he asked with an evil grin.

* * *

**_Note from the Author_**

_I think I'm the first person to use the Very Deep - Annfwn - Avalon connection for the Deeper Well (with Illyria as Arthur "The once and Future God-King") which I'm pretty pleased about as IMHO it's pretty nifty._

_Baal-Berith does mean "Lord of the Covenant" incidentally too._

_And I hope you lot appreciate all the damn research that goes into the Fic sometimes :-p_


	15. Chapter 15

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**Wolfram and Hart Building – Los Angeles – March 2004**

Sat in a chair in front of Lilah Morgan's desk Hamilton was acutely aware of two things. Firstly she had a better taste in furniture and art than he did, although he considered them roughly equal in clothes, and secondly he was less than happy to know that Hauser was behind him screwing a silencer into place on the barrel of an automatic pistol. Hamilton knew he was more than a match for the head of LA Special Ops in hand-to-hand but that wouldn't help much if the mercenary was ordered to add a new piece of art to the office décor and blow the brains of a child of the senior partners out all over the room in a pattern reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock.

Lilah looked the conduit of the Senior Partner's right in the eye. 'Did I, or did I not, tell you to keep me informed on any changes in policy?' she asked.

'If you kill me the folks upstairs, or should I say downstairs, won't be happy' Hamilton pointed out.

'Somehow I'm getting the impression they're _already_ unhappy' Lilah retorted. 'I could have really done without finding out third-hand from a seer in our Cairo office.'

Hamilton leaned forward, meshed his fingers together and rested them on the desk 'I found out the same time you did' he told Lilah. 'I only know what the Senior Partners choose to let me know' he reminded her. 'I'm a conduit not one of the inner circle.'

Lilah leaned back in her chair and seemed to take an uncommon interest in the ceiling. 'Well are they letting you know anything _now_?' she asked.

'Yes' Hamilton replied. 'They were concerned that the operation on Earth leaks information like a sieve so they didn't want anyone here to know until the process of raising the associate was too far gone for anyone to intervene, it's now inevitable despite the efforts of the Slayer Organisation to forestall it.'

'At least it's not one of the big three showing up' Hauser observed.

Hamilton chuckled. 'That the Wolf, Ram and Hart saw fit to dispatch one of their closest and oldest associates should concern you quite enough' he said. 'Baal-Berith isn't a mere demon, he was worshipped by people of Canaan as a God' he noted. 'He has been a Senior Partner so long that on many worlds, including Pylea which has been causing us so much trouble of late, our representative bodies are named for him.'

'It's even worse than that' Lilah added. 'Unlike most of the others Berith is a warrior not a manipulator, a General not a Politician' she said. 'The days of the slow grinding apocalypse are over, the opposition threw a monkey-wrench into the machine so the Senior Partners are shifting onto a war footing and that's a whole new ball game.'

Hamilton nodded. 'If our efforts on Pylea had proven more fruitful this escalation likely wouldn't have happened' he said, 'but the Slayer forces there adapted too quickly to fighting against equally well armed, and more disturbingly _human_ troops' he continued.

'Mea culpa' Lilah admitted. 'I just didn't think they'd be willing to kill people as well as demons without so much as a pause' she continued. 'Thousands of years of a Holier-Than-Thou "we don't kill humans" policy and they throw it out the window without so much as a seconds thought and start gunning them down as soon as the lead starts flying their way.'

'They're better than we expected too' Hauser stated. 'I've seen the reports from the skirmishes where our troops got away, the slayers use proper military tactics and they do it well' he said. 'Add in the strength, speed and reactions and they're a bitch to fight against, and I do mean _bitch_' he continued. 'From what we can tell they've only ever taken one prisoner, otherwise they finish off the wounded, usually with a bayonet or one of those short-swords they carry judging from the wounds' he explained. 'Human or demon doesn't seem to matter, if you're still breathing when the shooting stops they'll put cold steel through you before they move off.'

'And they're getting even better' Lilah pointed out.

'Nothing beats on-the-job training' Hauser responded. 'They're honing their infantry skills using the blood of my men to lube the grindstone' he said. 'We _know_ we shoot them occasionally, we find _their_ blood on the field too, but the rate they heal at means if you don't kill them outright they're back in action a couple of days later but only now they're _pissed_.'

'Nice metaphor with the grindstone' Lilah told him.

'I put some thought into it' Hauser replied honestly. He was a soldier not a poet but knew the value of a well put together phrase, it stuck in the mind better. 'It's causing a morale problem amongst our troops too' he admitted. 'They're mercs like me, most of them fighting for money not a cause and these slayers are starting to seem like fucking fanatics.'

'They always had a cause' Hamilton interjected. 'It's the methods and the lengths they'll go to in order to achieve their aims that's changed' he said.

'Evil's worst nightmare' Lilah wryly observed, 'the good guys wising up and playing for keeps' she said then laughed. 'If a seer had told me a year and a half ago I'd have fired his sorry ass for incompetence.'

'So now our side throws in a nightmare of its own' Hamilton replied. 'The Senior Partners believe they must contain or mitigate the threat before it spreads to more dimensions.'

'Cold War's hotting up' Lilah said. 'Shit' she swore. 'I was hoping to keep a lid on it, so much for the balance of terror.'

'We're still a long way from all-out war' Hamilton told her. 'When the Wolf, Ram and Hart personally lead every legion at their disposal to Earth that'll be the time to find somewhere else to be but we're not there yet' he told her. 'The Lord of the Covenant isn't here to conquer' he explained, 'he's coming to restore the balance '

Lilah blinked. 'Okay now _that's_ role reversal.'

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – March 2004**

Buffy and Angel looked up as the office door opened to reveal a slightly bemused looking Faith. 'B you ain't gonna _believe_ what we found in the sewers near the Hotel access' Faith told her, stepping in to the office followed by a familiar face. 'I've told him if he causes any trouble we'll get Illyria to rip his arms and legs off.'

Angel practically snarled. 'I was hoping we'd seen the last of you' he declared, 'always turning up like a bad penny.'

Lindsey McDonald smirked. 'Ruining your day is what helps get me through mine' he replied. 'Sorry to cut and run but I'm not here to talk over old times' he said. 'I just want to collect Eve and go.'

Angel smirked back. 'Okay just pay off the rent she owes and she's yours' he told him. 'She's been living in my Hotel here since September, ask at reception and they'll tally up the bill.'

'Seven months' Faith noted, 'gonna be pricy, and she eats a lot for a skinny chick too' she pointed out, playing along.

Lindsey glared. 'You're kidding?' he responded angrily.

'Yeah' Angel admitted smugly, 'to be honest I'd _pay_ to get you and your girlfriend out of my life' he told Lindsey. 'I just wish you'd been just a bit more of an asshole so I wouldn't feel bad if I killed you. As it is do yourself a favour and never darken my door again, or I might decide a little more remorse is worth it.'

Buffy got off her chair. 'Wasn't really sure you were _ever_ going to come back for her' she told Lindsey, 'she's been waiting a long time but you did so you've gone up in my estimation, but take the hint from Angel and don't show up on our radar again' she warned him. 'Come on, she'll be in the kitchen, I'll take you there' she offered. 'Faith could you ask Anya to work out what we owe Eve in wages and get Diana to take it out of petty cash?' she asked the other slayer.

'Sure thing B' Faith replied.

Buffy smiled. 'I'm feeling generous' she said, 'stick in an extra thousand and call it a bonus for not taking a carving knife to Andrew.'

Faith nodded. 'She deserves a medal' she replied. The little twerp was infuriating and Eve had been putting up with him day after day for months.

'Wages?' Lindsey queried then frowned 'Who the hell is Andrew?' he asked.

'Andrew is our erstwhile chef, general assistant and sometime hostage' Buffy answered, indicating for Lindsey to follow her as she headed out of the office. 'Eve has been earning her keep, plus a few bucks an hour extra, working as his assistant because we weren't going to let her freeload and we couldn't trust her with anything more important.'

Lindsey followed the slayer across the lobby heading towards the kitchen. 'I suppose I should thank you for protecting her from Wolfram and Hart' he said begrudgingly.

'We did it as much to annoy them as anything else' Buffy told him, 'besides which you should thank Angel not me, this is his house not mine' she reminded him.

'I'll send him a thank you note in the mail' Lindsey replied sardonically.

'So why'd you show up now?' Buffy asked, leading him through double doors into a corridor.

'Had to lay low until Wolfram and Hart stopped looking for me so hard' Lindsey replied. 'And I needed somewhere safe to take Eve to' he added. 'I knew she'd be okay here, you good guy types wouldn't have given her up, goes against the code right?' he asked wryly.

'We're a little more flexible these days to be honest' Buffy responded cryptically. 'What really helped decide the matter was that her replacement turned up and demanded we turn her over to him' she explained. 'It'll be a cold day in the hottest of the hell dimensions before some Wolfram and Hart lackey gets to step onto our turf and give orders' she declared. 'So where are you planning to take her that's safe?' she asked. 'Got to be worried that Berith might decide to clean house on other Wolfram and Hart business while he's here?'

'I've got somewhere' Lindsey replied, then winced as Buffy stopped dead in her tracks and grinned at him.

'Seemed like way too much of a coincidence you showing up now what with a head honcho from Wolfram and Hart expected to drop into our dimension' she told him. 'Thought you'd better pick up the girlfriend and hightail it out of here before it got dicey?' she asked.

'You're trickier than you look' Lindsey told her.

'It's the hair colour, people underestimate me' Buffy told him. 'Okay you'll find Eve in there, you can have your romantic tear-filled reunion but after that we're going to have a talk' she told him then paused. 'If you were planning to sweep her off her feet and carry her away you really should be wearing a white navy uniform' she observed with a smile, holding the door to the kitchen open for him.

Eve turned as the door opened and immediately dropped a tray laden with crockery as she saw who stepped through.

It _was_ a tearful reunion but Andrew provided most of the tears when the tray landed on his foot. The howling took some of the gloss of the romance of it all Buffy told everyone later.

**Vahla ha'nesh – Location Inexplicable – Date Irrelevant**

Ben started pacing up and down. 'Can't you hurry up?' he asked. 'I've been stuck in this dump for months' he complained. 'I just want my own life and to get out of this nightmare.'

Illyria scowled. 'My Temple is _not_ a dump' she told him angrily. 'I designed the buildings myself and devoted more than a human lifetime to its construction' the God-King declared.

'Oh come on Blue, even you've got to admit its seen better days' Faith interjected, absent-mindedly swinging her scythe around.

Illyria looked around. Okay so it was looking past its prime but Vahla ha'nesh still looked pretty impressive, she thought. It was probably the humans inability to appreciate good architecture. Ben did make one valid point though. 'Knox what is the delay?' she asked.

Knox looked up from the machine he was calibrating, it was the size and approximate shape of a washing machine and connected by two large insulated cables to both a small rod held on a camera tripod and a gas generator that was feeding it electricity. 'I'm just making final adjustments to the booster system Great One' he replied. 'We're feeding a lot more power into the Ferula-Gemina Rod than it would normally take and we have to be sure it won't explode and either clone the lot of us or blow us into chunky kibble' he explained.

'You've been working on that thing six months, how can it not be ready yet for gods sake?' Ben retorted.

'Because in real life research and development of a major piece of scientifically revolutionary equipment does not take a couple of hours like it does in the damn movies' Knox retorted curtly. 'Especially when you've only two an R&D team of two people who are also working on other projects at the same time' he added. Most of Fred's time was still being devoted to the development of Portal Generation technology based off her own research, the Orb that was a key to Jasmines world, and the ongoing study of Dawn's blood.

Fred stood nearby nodded. 'It may have only taken Wesley and Willow a few weeks to sort out the magic side of the equation but the power booster needed designing from scratch' she pointed out, 'and when I mean from scratch I mean from base scientific principles' she continued. 'That thing violates both the uncertainty principle and the laws of thermodynamics for Gods sake, do you have any idea of how much hard work that is?' she asked rhetorically.

'For my part yes' Illyria replied flatly.

Fred muttered something under her breath. 'I wish you didn't have so many of my memories' she told Illyria.

'So do I' Illyria responded. 'Though the scientific knowledge has proved useful the other stuff is problematic especially emotionally' she said. 'To love Wesley is bad enough but the affection I feel towards Feigenbaum the Master of Chaos is incredibly demeaning.'

'Mitchell Feigenbaum the mathematician?' Knox asked in surprise. Fred had a crush on _him_,he wondered?

'Not the man himself, the stuffed toy animal Fred named for him' Illyria explained. 'I _told_ you it was demeaning.'

Fred fought back laughter, it was Illyria's earnest delivery of lines like that which made them so funny. 'Umm, I'll let you borrow him if you like' she offered

'It would not be wise' Illyria replied. 'Anya often visits and she would be alarmed at the presence of Feigenbaum given that he is a representation of a bunny' she told Fred. 'I would not cause her such distress' she added. Anya's friendship was important to Illyria, it had initially been based upon the formers manner which was forthright and lacked evasion and deceit but there were other reasons too. Anya had been a vengeance demon for many years, well "many" by human standards anyway, and did not judge Illyria on purely human terms which was appealing, but most importantly perhaps the Shell had not known Anya so Illyria did not have to worry she only liked her because of imprinted memories of friendship. Her amity with Anya was Illyria's and hers alone and that made it special.

Faith finished playing with her scythe, she felt like a fifth wheel somehow but knew it was important she be here in case a certain Hellgod needed making a head shorter once she was released from her Ben shaped prison. As a former inmate herself Faith sympathised with Glory for being incarcerated but you had to admit she was a good candidate for the death penalty on the principle of public safety alone. 'So what do you and Anya talk about anyway?' she asked Illyria curiously.

'You and the others, world events, our respective boyfriends, sex' Illyria replied. 'Many different topics, I will miss her companionship when she moves to Shadow Valley with Xander.'

'Sex?' Faith asked noting a slight twitch from Knox. He didn't seem to approve of some guy sticking it to his God, whether that was piety or a desire to do so himself was an issue to think about.

'Yes' Illyria answered. 'We compare notes' she told the slayer. 'Wesley appears more adventurous than Xander from what I can determine, although Anya maintains that Xander is a Viking in the sack.'

'He got trained up properly' Faith responded with a grin. 'Adventurous?' she asked slyly.

'I will not go into details as it might embarrass my Wesley to do so' Illyria replied. More to the point he might decide to retaliate and tell people that she liked to be dominated in bed sometimes, that was something she hadn't even told Anya. 'I am gratified you are talking to me' she told Faith. 'Many of the others have been acting very strangely towards me recently, I would have thought they were plotting against me but their overall attitudes do not suggest that.'

Faith flinched. They had decided to keep the whole "Once and future God-King" thing from Illyria for now, better to let Wesley handle that issue when he got back. 'Not planning to introduce you to my friend here so you can relax on that score Blue' Faith told her.

'It is unpleasant to be in the dark as to what is going on' Illyria observed.

Faith burst out laughing. 'Welcome to the other side of the fence Miss "I know the future but I'm only telling you what you need to know".'

'The irony is not lost on me' Illyria told her.

'Ready' Knox announced. 'Stand there' he told Ben, pointing at a temporary mark on the floor.

'Here too' Fred added, hefting a piece of machinery from the stone plinth where it had been resting.

'Showtime' Faith said stretching her muscles. 'Bitch is way too fast for me so if she makes a move stick close.'

'I will envelope both of us in the temporal distortion field as required' Illyria replied. 'Just do not miss with the scythe if you have to use it, freed from her jailer Glory will be far stronger than I' Illyria told her. 'You may fire when ready Knox.'

Ben closed his eyes, he suspected he was going to die but even that looked more appealing than spending the rest of his life in this decaying stone ruin.

Knox took a deep breath. 'Charging now' he said flicking a switch. The machine began to hum as large capacitors began to build up power, the hum building to a point where it was far louder than the nearby generator itself. The rod held on the tripod began to glow and spark, it wasn't meant to have this both energy shunted through it but they weren't splitting a carpenter in half here.

'Firing rod in three' Knox said, 'two one. FIRING' he bellowed.

A gigantic bolt of energy blasted from the Ferula-Gemina Rod and slammed into Ben sending him flying through the air. The flash of the discharge was almost blindingly bright and Faith saw dots in front of her eyes despite having closed them, her eyelids just weren't thick or dark enough.

Glory found herself lying on a cold stone floor. 'What in the hell is this shi…' she began, turning her head and finding herself looking at her brother cutting her off mid-sentence as her jaw dropped.

'So just because Ben knows she doesn't?' Faith asked stepping forward looking down at her.

'They are very separate beings' Illyria replied. 'Now more than ever' she added.

Glory got to her feet. 'You split me and Ben' she declared incredulously. 'How the hell did you do that?'

'Smarter than you I guess' Faith told her.

'I'm free' Glory said holding out her arms as if to stretch after being confined in a small place too long. 'And now you're going to pay' she said, clenching a fist.

Illyria smirked. 'I was aware than freed of your own shell you would regain more of your power as a Hellgod' she said.

'More fool you Old One' Glory told her. 'Nice scythe' she told Faith. 'You won't get a chance to use it.'

'Didn't think I would' Faith replied with a wink.

A beam of blue lighting hit Glory square in the back and she fell to the ground screaming as the beam continued to play over her for a few more seconds though to Glory it felt like an eternity of pain.

'Thanks Fred' Faith told the young woman standing behind the Hellgod hefting a large gun-like object.

'No problem' Fred replied.

Glory raised her head. 'What was…' she asked grimacing from the pain.

'Mutari Generator' Illyria explained. 'Drained some of your power to another dimension' she explained. 'Just enough to make you compliant, I didn't want you too weak to be useful, merely insufficiently strong that I would be unable to beat you senseless again if the situation called for it' the God-King continued. 'When it was done to me in the original timeline I found the experience excruciating, albeit necessary at the time'.

Glory sat up and started to cry. 'I'll never go home' she said sinking her face into her hands.

Illyria snorted. 'Stop whining and act like a God' she chided. 'You're making us look bad in front of the mortals' she added.

'Benny boy is coming around' Faith pointed out. 'Hey Doc snap out of it' she said reaching down to him and hauling him to his feet as his eyes opened.

'Holy Shit' Ben swore, finding himself looking down at his sister sitting on the floor starting to bawl her eyes out. 'It fucking worked.'

Illyria nodded and turned to Knox. 'You are a worthy subject deserving of my praise and have it' she told him. 'I will formulate an appropriate title for you in the Old Tongue.'

'I live to serve, God-King' Knox replied, beaming as he bowed his head at her.

'Good work on the Generator' Illyria told Fred. 'We'll go out to dinner, my treat.'

'I live to be served Mexican Food' Fred joked.

Ben seemed able to stand on his own two feet so Faith stopped helping and let him go. 'Give your Sis a hug' she told him. 'I think she needs it.'

Feeling more than a little disorientated Ben knelt down next to Glory and to his surprise she almost fell against his shoulder, still crying. 'So what about me?' he asked.

'You are free' Illyria told him. 'I will return you through the portal and you may go where you wish, as a Doctor you should have little trouble finding a useful and rewarding place in human society, a Hospital perhaps.'

'Best not to be honest about the missing time on your résumé' Faith advised. 'Or you'll end up in a Psychiatric Hospital instead, and not as staff' she told him.

Ben rocked his sister gently as he considered the future, he almost wept himself too in happiness.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – April 2004**

Buffy almost dropped her fork, she'd only just sat down in the dining room to eat when Illyria walked in and came straight over to report. 'You bought Glory back with you?' she asked Illyria. 'You split up Ben from Glory and came back with _both _of them?' she continued. For her part Dawn was simply looking at the God-King wide-eyed.

'Yes, Ben is now free and Glory of no use left in Vahla ha'nesh so I have returned with both' Illyria replied.

'You can't let Glory run free' Willow stated. She had only just teleported back from Cleveland and was sharing Buffy's chocolate gateaux. 'She might try to take Dawn.'

'What's this shit I hear from Faith that you bought the Hell-Bitch back with you' Spike demanded to know, stamping over towards them. 'She nearly killed Buffy, she's a threat to Knibblet, why not scythe the bitch now Ben's out of the way, or at least let her rot.'

'Not often you'll hear this from me but Spike's right' Xander agreed, approaching from the other direction.

'You are all being narrow-minded' Illyria told them. 'Glory is extremely powerful and would be a great asset against our enemies.'

'What the hell are you talking about?' Buffy asked, nonplussed.

'A great asset' Illyria repeated. 'I plan to bring Glory with me to Pylea and have her fight at my side against the forces of the Wolf, Ram and Hart then we return to prepare to counter Berith.'

'You've_ got_ to be kidding?' Xander exclaimed.

'She is more than willing' Illyria told them seriously. 'In fact she was despondent before I made the offer but is now apparently very happy.'

'What "offer" are we talking about' Buffy asked suspiciously.

Illyria shrugged. 'The war against the Wolf, Ram and Hart and our other foes across the multiverse will go on for centuries, possibly millennia' she said. 'Glory like myself however is immortal so that is not an issue, her only interest in returning home and regaining her position as God and Ruler of her home dimension.'

'I don't like where this is heading' Buffy said quietly.

'In order to obtain Glory's aid I have offered to assist her in conquering her former realm once our enemies are defeated' the God-King declared.

'You offered her _what_?' Dawn asked aghast.

'Empire and Glory' Spike murmured, then turned to Buffy. 'What Dru said about the future, Empire and Glory, she didn't mean it would be glorious she meant the bloody blonde Hellbitch.'

'Yup' Illyria agreed with a grin. 'Glory come here' she said loudly.

Every eye locked onto the Hellgod as Glory entered the dining room, from where she had been waiting outside, and walked over to Illyria's side, a beaming smile on her face and an upbeat demeanour in her carriage. 'So what are you doing just sitting here eating dessert?' she asked. 'Come on' she enthused. 'Senior Partners to fight, vampires to dust, worlds to liberate' she said, 'the sooner we kill the long damn lot of them the sooner I get to go home' she declared.

Spike stared at her for a moment then shuddered. 'Whoa, déjà vu' he said.

'Right there with you' Willow told him, Xander nodding in agreement.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This fanfic runs on reviews._

_Much action and mayhem next chapter!_


	16. Chapter 16

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – April 2004**

Dawn didn't like spending time with Dana, and to be honest neither did Connor, but they were once again having breakfast with her, if only because Connor liked spending time with Drusilla even less and if Dana was about Drusilla invariably wasn't.

To describe Connors first encounter, and indeed the subsequent ones, with Drusilla as awkward and uncomfortable would be to understate things, in much the same sense as it would be to describe Illyria as "self-assured". Vampires were one thing, insane vampires were another, but insane vampires who call you "Baby-Brother" and want to sing you lullabies as they rock you in their arms pretty much maxed out Connors creep-o-meter. The fact he got the impression she _wasn't_ going to bite him didn't help, in fact it might have been easier to deal with if he thought she would, as it was the psychic undead managed to achieve something nearly impossible, Connors memories of being chased through the streets of LA by a thirty foot tall demon just didn't seem so bad anymore.

'You don't look fuzzy today' Dana told Dawn randomly, reaching for her glass of chocolate milk. That different perception of her was of course was the main reason Dawn didn't like spending time with the crazy slayer either. Depending on how long it had been since she took her medication they had learned that Dana could see Dawn was different from other people, as apparently so could Drusilla, it was clearly a sanity thing, or rather a lack thereof. It was something that reminded Dawn that when you came right down to it she wasn't a "real" person, just a construct made by others for a purpose. It distressed her but she had found someone who seemed to understand at last, Connor only existed because of the machinations of a higher power too and it meant she could say things to him she was reluctant to say to others. He was also a good kisser and possibly the only _warm blooded_ teenage boy around that her sister couldn't break in half, both of which were a serious bonus as far as Dawn was concerned.

Faith walked over, dropped her own breakfast tray next to Dana's and sat down, stroking the other girls hair as she did so. Faith wasn't a physical affection kinda girl as a rule but Dana needed the reassurance and she always smiled sweetly when Faith gave her a little hug or something. 'Where's the twins?' she asked, looking around. Deborah and Jessica usually had breakfast with Dana before school and then spent some quality watcher/slayer time with her when they got back.

'Running late' Dana replied. 'Emily is hurrying them up, or trying to' she explained. Giles wasn't returning from until later that day and with him absent the girls were being a pain in the ass to their older sister. He wasn't exactly the strictest parent ever but when he laid down the law and put a bit of his best "Ripper" tones into it the girls damn well obeyed. Emily on the other hand was just their big sister and could be ignored by them with impunity as long as they didn't overstep the mark and drive her to grabbing her siblings by the hair and dragging them to where they were supposed to be. You could usually see that coming though, the expression on her face looked a great deal like when she had grabbed a Harbingers head from behind, pulled it back and slit his throat, if you saw that one it was high time to start doing what you were damn well told.

'Over here Spike' Dawn called out and waved. Spike turned, saw Dawn then frowned when he saw who she was sitting with. He groaned then walked over taking the seat directly across from Dana who glared at him and quietly growled when he sat down. Dawn pushed his morning cup of blended blood over to him and Spike tried to ignore the daggers, or rather stakes, being glared at him across the table as he took his first mouthful.

Connor suddenly grinned. 'You won't believe what Dawn saw this morning' he told everyone.

'I was trying to forget' Dawn responded with a shudder. 'There's some things you just don't want to think about.'

Spike swallowed. 'Come on Knibblet, don't keep it to yourself' he told her.

Dawn sighed. 'Okay so I got up early…' she began.

'You're right I don't believe it' Spike interrupted with a grin.

'So I got up early' Dawn repeated, ignoring him, 'and guess who I ran into sneaking out of somebody else's room buttoning their shirt and looking guilty and nervous?'

Faith grinned. 'Hell this is better than I thought it was going to be' she responded.

Dawn grimaced. 'Trust me you're better off not knowing' she counselled.

'We'll be the judge of that' Spike told her.

'Okay but I gave you fair warning' Dawn told them. 'It was Stirling sneaking out of the Guardians room, I think she decided to give him a proper send-off before he went to the Pylean War or something.'

'Awww' Faith moaned and stuck out her tongue. 'I didn't want to think about old people having sex.'

Spike snorted. 'I'm old enough to be his bleeding Grandfather' he pointed out.

'Yeah but you don't _look_ it' Connor told him.

'They don't even _like_ each other' Faith noted. 'Although thinking about it sometimes that makes the sex better' she added before wincing. 'Oh Christ the wrinklies are getting more action than I am' she said despondently, 'I've got to get some shallow, meaningless screwing in quick before I end up losing what's left of my Rep' she continued. 'This one's already cornered my old "Psycho-Slayer" schtick' she said indicating Dana who did take offence merely smiling in response. Dana _knew_ she wasn't quite right, she also knew that Faith really cared about her and was just being honest not malicious.

'Don't even _think_ about saying it Connor' Dawn told him, narrowing her eyes as he opened his mouth to jokingly volunteer.

Connor closed his mouth quickly then shrugged. 'Sorry' he apologised to Faith. 'I was willing to help out a friend, but you know' he continued, 'she's the possessive type' he told her, half nodding towards Dawn.

'You'd better believe it boy' Dawn told him, 'don't cross me' she warned.

Spike took another swig of his blood. 'She's scared the crap out of me before' he advised Connor. 'I've never heard a threat made better in my life, and I knew your Dad when he was evil, so I know a bloody good threat when I hear one.'

'Keeps you on a short leash does she?' Faith joked as Dawn gave Connor a quick peck on the cheek.

'No you're thinking of my Dad and his Girlfriend' Connor joked.

Spike laughed along with the others then suddenly stopped as a line popped into his head. 'Hey you realise what this means' he said. 'With Stirling I mean.'

'No?' Faith replied quizzically.

''She's not lost the knack' Spike said then paused for effect. 'Medousa can still make a man rigid' he deadpanned before cracking up entirely and setting off everyone else.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – April 2004**

Denise stood with a few of the others as the new arrivals trooped out of the open portal, carrying crates of supplies and wearing wide-eyed expressions. 'Oh for Christ's sake' she exclaimed. 'They look fucking _twelve_' she moaned as she weighed up the new batch of volunteers from the slayer ranks back home. They all looked so out of place in their crisp new uniforms and nice haircuts, the slayers that had been on Pylea for three months didn't look anywhere near as presentable, they had been living in the same three sets of identical clothes in constant rotation since early January and both their own uniforms and themselves had been washing in the local river all that time.

'You _all_ look fucking twelve' Ashton interjected from behind them. 'Why do you think I haven't been screwing any of you?' he asked with a grin.

Denise smirked. 'Some say it's because you're being professional, majority opinion is that you're gay' she deadpanned.

'If there's one mistake I'm not going to repeat with the rookies it's teaching them backchat' Ashton responded sadly. 'It took me years in the army to get to the stage I'd talk to NCO's like that.'

'We've got two weeks to teach them bad habits before most of us ship back and some of the girls are staying' she reminded him. 'We'll have them drinking, cursing and making your life difficult in no time Caporal-Chef.'

Ashton snorted. 'Oh yeah that sounds attractive' he said sarcastically, 'And you actually think I'm only not screwing you because I'm gay?'

'Hey I'm in the minority that thinks you're just professional and dedicated' Denise told him with a chuckle. 'Okay last ones coming through' she added as Illyria and another woman stepped through the portal.

Ashton straightened up. 'Okay now _she's_ new' he said checking out the blond who emerged from the portal alongside the bluehead. She was wearing the same camouflage uniform as the slayers but somehow seemed to look a lot more stylish and attractive in it.

'Oh shit' one of the other girls exclaimed recognising her. 'You've got to be kidding, not _her_, why would they bring _her_?' she asked with a groan.

'In the dark here Luce' Ashton told the girl.

Lucy grimaced. 'You went to Val ha'nesh a couple of times didn't you, weapons training with the stuff we couldn't really take to the local gun-range?' she asked. 'You met Ben right?'

'Miserable whiny bastard, supposed to be possessed by a demon, took him over sometimes?' Ashton queried.

'Not a demon, a Hellgod' Lucy corrected him, 'Glory'. '_That's_ her' she told him, shaking her head in amazement 'There was a story they were going to try and split them apart, maybe they pulled it off?' she hypothesised.

'She's a _God_?' Ashton asked, staring at her.

'In the flesh' Lucy replied. 'Kinda like Illyria but without the being on our side thing going for her, you should have seen what the bitch did to Buffy before Super-Smurf stepped in and cleaned her clock' she told him. Lucy had been one of the original potentials that were turned in Sunnydale and sometimes regaled the newer recruits with stories of the fight against the First. One thing it did give her was perspective, after facing off against a couple of thousand Turok'Han most other demons looked like complete wimps.

Glory looked around. 'You're not serious, you're not actually fighting for this piece of crap dimension are you?' she said loudly, looking around. 'This place makes _Earth_ look halfway acceptable' Glory declared, 'and I could have crapped a better plane of existence than that' she stated. 'And what the hell are _you_ looking at?' she asked the mercenary.

Ashton couldn't think of a damn thing to say and eventually Glory rolled her eyes and turned to Illyria, asking her something, her blond curls almost seemed to bounce as she turned. She _wasn't_ the most stunning sight he'd ever experienced but he _had_ once been in a room when a stun grenade went off so that wasn't a black mark against Glory by any means.

Lucy snapped her fingers in front of his face. 'He's like totally zoned out' she said.

The mercenary blinked and finally took a breath. 'Hallelujah Sisters' he declared. 'I think I just got religion' Ashton announced happily.

**Shopping Mall – Los Angeles – April 2004**

Giles had returned from Cleveland early enough to pick the girls up from school so he had foolishly decided to do so. Somehow, he suspected it was some form of hypnosis or spell, the twins had talked him into taking them to this monument to decadent American capitalism and now after being dragged around various stores and outlets he was in a fast food restaurant contemplating an oversized cheeseburger which looked a great deal more appetising on the picture on the wall than it did in real life.

After answering numerous questions from Emily regarding how Stephen looked, and was he looking after himself, and did he say he missed her, Giles was beginning to wish he'd stayed in Cleveland for a while longer. He hadn't realised how many hours a day the girls seemed to absorb of his time until he spent some time on the nice, quiet relaxing Hellmouth on the other side of the country.

'I was under the impression that you spent the better part of an hour a day, _every _day, on the telephone to Stephen' Giles told Emily. 'How can you not know everything that's been happening to the boy?' he asked reasonably he thought.

Emily pouted. 'It's not the same as seeing him' she replied.

'Well what about that webcam gadget?' Giles asked. 'You get to see each other of that don't you?'

'It's not the same as seeing him in real life' Emily countered.

'Can we get an icecream?' Jessica interrupted.

'Not until you finish your…' Giles began. 'What on Earth happened to your food?' he quickly asked in confusion looking at the empty wrappers and boxes in front of them.

'We ate it' Deborah told him.

'Ate it?' Giles repeated. 'You must have _absorbed_ it' he responded incredulously. It didn't make any sense, the sheer volume of food involved compared to the size of the two twelve year old girls made the notion they could have eaten it all that fast simply impossible, nothing ate like that unless it was a God-King, or possibly a lookalike physicist. 'Oh go on then' he said reaching for his wallet, 'get yourself some icecream' he told them. 'You too?' he asked Emily.

'I'll get myself a piece of fruit' Emily replied.

'You're not on a diet are you?' Giles asked, he didn't like the idea of young girls on diets, he'd seen too many stories about anorexic girls on the television.

'No' Emily replied. 'I just wanted a piece of fruit' she replied. 'Why you don't think I need to go on a diet do you?' she asked quickly.

Giles shook his head. 'Don't be silly' he told her and handed over a few notes checking the denominations. You had to be so careful with US Dollars, back home all the banknotes were different sizes and colours which made accidentally doubling one of your daughter's pocket money, or as they said here "allowance", because you were in a rush much less likely.

As they headed towards the dessert counter it suddenly occurred to Giles that he had actually just thought of the girls as being his daughters, bloody hell that one snuck up on me he thought with surprise.

'Three girls?' a woman's voice commented. 'You must rue coming to the Mall' she added with a chuckle. 'I've only got one and it's bad enough.'

Giles looked up from his gradually diminishing burger and found himself facing a smiling dark haired woman in perhaps her late thirties and wearing a badge that said she was the restaurant manager. He swallowed quickly and smiled back, 'Worse than you think' he said. 'I've actually got five' he told her. He certainly had parental feelings towards Dawn and Buffy even if they weren't his legal responsibility like Emily and the twins. 'The other two have jobs and can pay for their own frivolous purchases though which is a great relief on my bank balance' he joked.

'Five?' the woman, her badge said her name was Claire, repeated in shock. 'Were you and your wife trying for a boy?' she asked.

Giles laughed. 'I've never married' he said. 'None of the girls are really mine, at least not biologically' he told her. 'I adopted the three sisters over there after their parents passed away in an accident, I was a close friend of the family' he lied, 'and the other two older girls are also sisters, though unrelated to the trio, who I've been trying to look after since their own mother died' he told her. 'I just keep collecting girls' he declared with a smile. If you _really_ wanted to stretch things you could say he had about two thousand of them he thought with amusement.

'Oh' the woman replied then paused. 'I was about to say the twins took after you' she admitted and giggled.

Giles laughed. 'You're not the only person to say that' he said. 'If their father was still around he would have probably beaten me up by now' he joked. 'Rupert Giles by the way' he said making sure to wipe his hand clean on a napkin before standing up and offering it to shake.

'Claire Moore' she replied taking it.

'I know from the badge' Giles told her. 'I never know whether to look at those or not' he observed. 'I'm sure I'm going to get slapped one day for looking at a woman's chest too intently just because I've left my glasses somewhere and I'm trying to read her name.'

'Well it's a good alibi anyhow' she replied with a smile. She was really quite attractive Giles decided.

'I've been saving it just in case' Giles told her. 'So how old is your girl?' he asked.

'Nine' she replied. 'Yours?' she asked.

'Twelve, Twelve, Fifteen, Seventeen and Twenty-Three' Giles replied. 'And astonishingly not _one_ of them was ever mine at age nine' he told her. 'I just seem to be burdened with more than my fair share of the teenage years' he stated. 'You and your husband didn't want more than one?' he asked. 'A wise decision incidentally.'

'I'm not married either' she replied, 'divorce in my case, we broke up a year after our little girl was born.'

'Well if you'll forgive the presumptuousness of a stranger I'm certain the man was a bloody fool to let you go' Giles told her chivalrously.

Later that night as he decided what film he was going to take her to Giles decided that he himself had been a bloody fool for not realising what a great way to meet women being a single father with daughters could be. You could even get them to babysit the woman's own child which was simply too convenient for words.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – April 2004**

'Got to be better than half a Legion of the bastards down there' Wes stated, lowering his binoculars and squatting back behind the thick scrub on the edge of the forest. 'Too many of them to try taking them out until now but with nearly a hundred slayers on the ground, and the new gear, we should be able to give them a nasty surprise.'

Stirling raised his own binoculars. 'They haven't got a bloody clue how to set up a perimeter' he commented. 'Are you certain on your numbers for the Wolfram and Hart presence?' he asked. 'Those mercenary chaps I mean' he added, continuing to size up the layout of the large encampment.

'Had the place under surveillance for nearly a month' Wesley replied. 'If there's more than a dozen in there I'd be very much surprised' he told the older watcher. 'They've been training some of the less racially supremacist demon types in how to act under fire, we've been watching them' he continued. 'Pity really' he opined, 'it's much more difficult to shoot them if they duck instead of scream defiance at you.'

'You wouldn't believe how many demons we've taken out that way' Vi interjected. 'I swear to God they just stand there in the open, bullets flying everywhere, as if they're _begging_ you to put a round through them' she stated.

'Weaponry?' Stirling asked, lowering his binoculars and turning to face Wesley.

'As for the demons, swords, axes, clubs and a few crossbows' Wesley answered, 'the latter are fairly powerful, best not to underestimate their range or effectiveness they'll certainly got through the girls chain-mail' he advised. 'As for the mercenaries they tend to carry a mix of assault rifles, sub-machineguns and sniper rifles which we assume is down to personal preference and country of origin. Wolfram and Hart have got Special Ops people here from all their major offices back on Earth.'

Stirling stretched his muscles and fought back a wince, bad show to show weakness in front of the other ranks. It had been a decent hike to get here and he was going to be bloody sore tomorrow, his feet were absolutely killing him despite letting the slayers carry all his personal equipment. Definitely time to stop acting like I'm only a bloody sixty year old, Stirling decided sadly.

Vi put her hand to her ear. 'All units in position' she announced.

'Right then' Stirling responded reaching into the pocket of his camouflage pattern combat jacket and pulling out a faded Red Beret which he pulled onto his head, the much polished brass Parachute Regiment badge on the front catching the light. 'Let's give the evil buggers a damn good thrashing shall we' he declared enthusiastically.

Wesley grinned and switched on his radio headset. 'Some wrath is in order I feel' he said. 'Perhaps some Fire and Brimstone to start with' he suggested.

'_Fire and Brimstone coming up_' a voice in his headset replied.

Two miles to the west Denise turned to her people, 'You all heard the man' she told them. 'Let's see how good these fancy new rounds are' she suggested brightly as the two slayers crewing the mortar opened the first crate of ammunition and held up a silvery-grey mortar bomb with both a red and a blue stripe painted around it and more strangely a pentagram superimposed on top of them.

'I still don't think this is going to work' the girl holding the round stated doubtfully as she prepared to fire it, holding the round over the top of the tube ready to drop it in.

'If it doesn't we'll just go back to good old fashioned white-phosphorus' Denise replied. 'Bet you fifty bucks it does though' she added.

'You're on' the slayer replied and dropped the round into the tube where it slid down, fell onto the firing pin which set off the propellant charge and sent the mortar bomb hurtling off into the distance with a deafening "crump" noise.

Using a laser rangefinder they had already properly aimed the mortar and the round sailed through the air in a huge arc before landing just off-centre in the middle of the camp. It did not however explode, at least not in the conventional sense.

As soon as a small charge in the mortar bomb detonated, cracking the steel case, a bright red fireball bloomed for an instant them coalesced into a dozen smaller fireballs which shot off in different directions and headed straight for the most powerful demons in the vicinity.

Back in the original timeline Illyria, or rather then still the shell, had developed with Knox and Wesley a techno-mystical hybrid stun-grenade that contained a neural-disruptive spell. It hadn't actually worked due to a mechanical fault but the core enchantment worked flawlessly and that wasn't the only kind of spell it could contain. Illyria had resurrected the idea and given it to Fred and Knox to work one, add in some creative thinking, one of Willow's better cluster-fireball spells and you had the basis for something that was simply awesome, mortar rounds with mystical payloads.

The fireballs slammed into the first dozen _extremely_ surprised demons and disintegrated both them and any other poor unfortunates stood within a few yards of them. The weapon proved the mortar fired the other four test rounds in quick succession and before the last self-guiding fireball had turned an eight-foot tall demon to ash it started to rain high-explosives and normal incendiary rounds all over the camp.

'They're definitely learning' Wesley said with regret as he watched the unfolding mayhem from his position. The demons weren't just running around like headless chickens like they did the first time they encountered mortar fire, they were throwing themselves in trenches that had been dug all over the camp and riding out the firestorm of explosions and flame as the bombs landed one after another, a full thirty rounds in all before the mortar ceased fire.

Everything went quiet for a few minutes, some of the demons got out of their trenches and began to look around nervously, surveying the damage.

'They've still got a lot to learn though' Wesley noted wryly as another five rounds crashed in, set to airburst just above the ground and catching a number of the demons who had already got up in the open, ripping them apart with red-hot steel shrapnel.

'Nice to see the old tricks still work' Stirling told Wesley. 'Means there might even be hope for me' he added.

'Demons' Wesley replied. 'Long on strength, short on brains' he opined. 'Rika please feel free to try out your new toy but please remember the ammunition is ludicrously expensive' he reminded the slayer.

'_One clip_' the South African slayer replied over the radio.

'That thing is just fucking ridiculous' the slayer laying on the ground next to Rika declared. 'If you were a guy I'd say you were compensating for something.'

Rika ignored her and sighted through the scope on the drastically oversized rifle. Most snipers used a weapon chambered in 7.62mm NATO, in some armies that was being supplemented by far larger .50 Calibre (12.5mm) so-called "anti-material" rifles such as the infamous Barrett M107/M82 which had even achieved notoriety in popular culture being seen in many films and computer games.

The slayer smiled as she aimed her 25mm Barrett XM109, the rifle that pissy little fifty-calibres wanted to be when they grew up. You could blow a hole in an inch and a half of armoured plate at half a mile with this thing, the only drawback was that after testing they found the recoil to be "beyond human tolerance" which limited sales interest more than a little. Fortunately for Rika she didn't have to worry about being merely human, all she needed was something worth shooting at.

A large Chirago Demon that must have been pushing six-hundred and fifty pounds in weight found itself in Rika's gunsights, the slayer squeezed the trigger and the semi-automatic rifle slammed back into her shoulder as a round which size meant it was technically light artillery tore across the battlefield and promptly blew a football sized hole right through the Demons torso nearly blowing it in half as it blew out its ribcage and spine.

Rika told the rifle in Afrikaans she was going to call it Joachim after her great, great grandfather who had been a sharpshooter in the Second War of Independence against the British, what they called the Second Boer War, and then she started looking for something else to shoot at as the other slayers started to move towards the camp.

Vi had left Wesley and Stirling and sprinted down to the line of slayers that were preparing to advance, some of the girls were putting down suppressive fire but with the opposition dug in they were going to have to get in there to clear them out. 'Alright Gunslayers' she yelled. 'You know the drill' she told them. 'We're getting up close and personal' she continued then gave the nod to Ashton who was waiting for her to give the order since she was technically the officer here.

Ashton took a deep breath. 'FIX BAYONETS' he ordered and snapped his own into place as around eighty slayers, half of whom had never done this before for real did likewise.

'Oh God, oh God, oh God' one of the new arrivals started saying over and over again, her hands trembling as she gripped her carbine assault rifle.

'Jailbait get her to shut the hell up' Vi ordered, Charlottes nickname had well and truly stuck.

'Piece of advice newbie' Charlotte told the girl. 'If you're worried about saving your immortal soul pray to Jesus _before_ you pick up your rifle' she said. 'If you're already in the shit, and you need someone to save your ass, you want to be looking for a different Deity for some help' she advised and pointed off to the left.

The newly arrived slayer turned the direction Charlotte indicated and her eyes widened as Illyria stepped up to join the line, she had been watching the mortar strikes with interest but if there was going to be some decent violence the God-King wanted in. Illyria held a pair of five-foot long broadswords, one in each hand rested back against her shoulders and she was grinning viciously, the twin swords, metallic blue for part of their length gleaming in the twin suns of Pylea.

'I want to see plenty of gratuitous violence once they get up and start fighting' Vi ordered. 'Don't close right up unless you have to, remember our guns reach further than their swords' she joked then started to psyche herself up, putting her normally sweet reserved personality even further back in her mind.

Ashton tensed up his muscles ready to go, they'd easily outdistance him once they launched the attack but he didn't want to end up embarrassingly far behind. 'What makes the grass grow?' he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

'Blood, blood, blood' half the girls yelled back.

'I can't hear you' Ashton shouted. 'What makes the grass grow?' he called out again.

'Blood, blood, blood' all the girls replied as loudly as they could, even Illyria joined in.

Vi pulled back the cocking lever on her rifle, as did the others in a battery of metallic echoes that spread down the line. 'GUNSLAYERS' she practically screamed. 'CHARGE!' she ordered and started running, eighty teenage girls, one thirty year-old mercenary and a blue haired Demon God who measured her age in epochs following her lead, the latter just because she chose to do so.

To any casual observer it would have all looked pretty exciting, but it did get messy when the eight hundred or so remaining demons surged out of their trenches to meet them head on.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This fanfic launches bayonet charges on reviews :-p_


	17. Chapter 17

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – April 2004**

The appropriate phrase would be a "target rich environment", another way of looking at it would be there were so many of the damn things you didn't really have to aim, it was more like scything through them with your rifle, simply hold down the trigger until the magazine ran dry and reload fast before a pissed off demon got close enough to introduce you to his disturbingly large set of claws.

The magazines on the G36K were designed so you could clip them together for quick reloading without having to do the old trick with the adhesive tape. As soon as her first thirty rounds were expended Vi pulled the empty clip, turned it around and snapped the second of the three magazines she had clipped together into place. She was about to start firing again when the first of a series of grenades detonated amongst the closest packed groups of demons as they emerged from their trenches and dugouts. Some of the girls were carrying the six chambered grenade launchers which had proved so useful since they first tried them out in Sunnydale and now the opposition were out in the open they had something worth using them on. 'Don't waste the grenades' Vi cautioned, yelling at the top of her lungs. They weren't cheap and more importantly they only had so many of the things.

They had delivered other new hardware from Earth too, a pair of belt fed light machineguns, which fired the same ammunition as the rifles but with a higher rate of fire and the added benefit of a two-hundred round box instead of a thirty round magazine. 'Get some' Charlotte howled defiantly at the demons, her face contorted into a savage grin as her machinegun chewed through the advancing enemy, they were somehow still closing despite the hail of gunfire being directed at them, seemingly unconcerned by the sight of their compatriots falling in droves under the guns of the slayers. The weapons stock pressed itself hard into her shoulder as she swept it from side to side showering the unfortunate slayer next to her with a continual rain of hot empty brass cartridge cases.

'Jailbait stop enjoying yourself this is supposed to be serious shit' one of the other experienced gunslayers yelled at her, as the ammunition belt finally ran out and a grinning Charlotte pulled the empty box off her weapon and unhooked another from her equipment harness.

'Better than sex' Charlotte yelled back as she reloaded in a hurry. The barrel on the was starting to glow after the sustained fire, she was now on her fourth box and by rights she should be thinking about changing the barrel over, not that she was in any position to be taking her weapon apart right now. Hopefully it wouldn't jam, or worse yet a round wouldn't cook off prematurely with the heat and blow her hand off or some shit like that Charlotte thought.

'Better than sex? How the hell would _you_ know?' the other slayer replied laughing. The newbies nearby who were fighting for their lives as far as they were concerned decided the girls who been here a while must have got nuts because who else could laugh and joke at a time like this?

'Why don't you kiss my ass' Charlotte replied. 'You too' she added as she started firing into the demons again. If sex really _was_ more fun that this it would explain why so many people made such a fuss about it she considered.

As the range closed the rounds started to punch all the way through the first demon they struck and kept going slamming into the next one behind. 'Hey newbie' she called to the girl to her left. 'Welcome to Pylea' she told her, starting to laugh manically as she reloaded her rifle again.

'The guns aren't stopping them' one of the new arrivals cried out. The battlefield was already littered with demon corpses but more kept coming, scrambling over the bodies of their fallen comrades. She had faced demons and vampires before back on Earth but this was entirely different, they were an unstoppable horde, a sea of fangs and claws intent on ripping her to shreds. Grenades blew holes in the enemy ranks, full-auto gunfire from dozens of slayers tore into them but they were so tough anything short of an instant kill or numerous hits wouldn't drop them.

One of the slayers carrying a grenade launcher dropped it once she fired off the last round and drew both her short sword with her left hand and then her automatic pistol with her right. She half turned to see Illyria standing nearby arms fully outstretched, a five foot long sword held in each and a smile on her face. The slayer decided to keep well clear once the God-King started swinging those things about, it was a great way to get accidentally decapitated.

Firing from half a mile away Rika had long since fired off the single five round magazine of the XM109 she was permitted to expend and was now instead firing again and again with her normal sniper rifle, it got the job done but it was just terribly anticlimactic to use after firing the oversized rifle, she decided sadly, as she blew another demons brains out and then worked the bolt on the rifle. It looked like the girls were about to go hand-to-hand down there, or at least sword and bayonet-to-claw, and Rika was much happier being where she was. Anyone, or at least any slayer could fight that way but she was officially the best shot with a rifle of any of them which made her special. If you've got a talent it's a shame to waste it so while the other girls who hadn't been in the initial charge were now sprinting to join the group, Denise and her mortar crew for example, Rika was staying where she was and taking out the highest ranking and larger enemies before they could either restore some cohesion to the enemy ranks or smash a girls brains out with a hundred pound club.

Almost as far from the action Wesley watched with trepidation as the demon mass finally reached the slayer line and it all got extremely messy. Many of the girls quickly abandoned their rifles and went to work with swords as a melee battle broke out but some were still firing point-blank into the mob using their bayonets when needed, thrusting steel into guts and wrenching it back out ready to strike again if necessary. Such was the strength of the slayers that sometimes the gun-barrels was driven into the flesh too, Wesley imagined he could actually hear and smell the demon blood sizzling against the hot metal as the girls, fighting as a solid line, began to settle into almost as rhythm as they relentlessly stabbed, slashed and hack their way through the foe.

Illyria moved to a position on the far left flank and simply started walking slowly forwards swinging her twin swords about. It wasn't a comparison Wesley would make to her since she would be unlikely to appreciate it but if he had to describe the image and effect he would have probably said "Food Processor". Illyria moved and slew with a smooth economic style that was almost mechanistic and anything in the way was cleaved in two by the blades. Even demons wearing armour didn't stand a chance, Illyria's swords were sharper than a razor, enchanted to keep their edge, made of the same alloys as the new scythes but constructed far thicker and heavier and perhaps most importantly they were being swung by a demon god who could bench-press a truck. One large demon that tried to parry the blow had a split second to watch as his own sword was simply knocked aside before Illyria weapon, barely diverted from its course took both his head clean off and the two demons standing beside him.

In the distant past and then in her original form Illyria had always wielded two blades in such battles which were even larger than these, if nowhere near as advanced mystically or metallurgically, and it was highly pleasurable to do so again. One thing the God-King had noticed quickly was that you got better overall balance and control with hands, the thumbs were especially useful, but she still missed the feeling of holding swords with tentacles, there was so much more variety of movement she recalled as she continued to do battle against the innumerable but pathetic foe. Her own armies would have been far more of a challenge to the slayers than this rabble she decided as she cut a swathe of destruction through the forces of Sebassis and his masters, the Wolf, Ram and Hart. 'Feel my wrath vermin' she thundered. 'Bow your heads or lose them to my steel.'

'Magnificent' Wesley declared, watching her through his binoculars.

'I'd have gone with bloody terrifying myself' Stirling replied, then frowned as he watched the slayers work. 'And not just her, what have you and the Foreign Legion chappies been teaching these girls?' he asked. The odds had started out better than ten to one down there but by the time the demons got close enough to fight back they were scarcely half that and dropping fast as the slayer line acted like a buzzsaw the demons threw themselves against. Stronger, faster and with better reactions the slayers were pure viciousness up close and the blood must have been running like a small river by their feet. The old slayer way of fighting had a style, an art to it, this was more like mechanical butchery, repeat the same moves over and over again, just keep going until there's nothing left in from of you to kill.

Wesley shrugged. 'How to win' he replied evenly. 'The price of defeat is too high to countenance anything else.'

Stirling nodded, it was perhaps unfortunate but nonetheless inevitable that in these circumstances the almost chivalric nature of the slayer life, born from single combat against the foe and romantic notions of the lone warrior against the darkness was going to fall by the wayside.

The elderly watcher attempted to observe dispassionately, once young Wesley returned to Earth he was going to be in charge and he needed to know what he was up against and what he had to work with. As ever the demons fought as a disorganised rabble, they might have been a greater threat if they had not lost so many officers to sniper fire, or been shaken up by the mortar bombardment, but as it was they reminded him more of football hooligans smashing into a line of riot police on the television news than an Army. No, not that, he decided, it was more like watching the professional Legionaries of Ancient Rome take apart a barbarian horde Stirling realised as he remembered his schooldays and reading in Tacitus of how ten thousand Romans had defeated near a quarter of a million Britons led by Boadicea, killing perhaps eighty thousand for a mere four hundred losses to themselves.

Wesley couldn't help but feel proud as Illyria continued to slaughter all comers with her blades, nothing could stand against her, some of the demons were starting to look reluctant to even try as the ground around her became slick with blood and entrails, bodies and parts of bodies piled up in gruesome heaps. My girl, he thought to himself happily as the unremitting carnage went on and on.

Resting nearby on a tree stump she had cleaned as best she could before sitting down Glory checked her nails. She was more than relieved Illyria had ordered her to merely observe the battle and only get involved if necessary, acting as a reserve force. All that demon blood was bound to get in her hair she if was down there and she was still trying to get over being told they washed in a river, an actual_ river_ for pities sake. This place really was starting to look like the ass-end of the multiverse, the Hellgod decided as she checked out her reflection in a vanity mirror she pulled from a pocket on the ill-shapen camouflage jacket the Blue Bitch was making her wear. Still beautiful of course, Glory determined, studying her reflection closely before putting the mirror away again and going back to watching the battle, she hoped it wasn't going to be this boring every day.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – April 2004**

Stephen sat cross-legged in the centre of the room surrounded by swords, polishing them one at a time with a piece of cloth, methodically cleaning them one at a time of every trace of dirt or grease before returning each sword to its scabbard and moving to the next.

Kennedy grinned, it would have almost been a Zen thing, watching a master at work, that is if he wasn't also listening to music on his iPod and rocking his head to the beat of whatever tune he was listening to as he worked. 'Someone give D'Artagnon a kick when its time to get something to eat, he'd play with those things all night otherwise' she told the girls sat on the couch watching TV as the young watcher finished polishing the sword and held it up to the light to look for anything he might have missed.

'Why is it he'll spend all day polishing and sharpening swords, knives, or his car, and they'll be spotless but ask him to clean some windows and they're crap?' one of the girls asked.

'Because he _enjoys_ cleaning those things and his car, but if he's crap at windows he might not have to do it again' Kennedy replied.

'So is that why he doesn't cook either?' another slayer asked. She was new, one of three extra girls transferred to Cleveland as reinforcements given the Berith situation.

Kennedy shook her head. 'No he doesn't mind cooking' she replied, '_that's_ because we let him a couple of times and we don't _want_ him to do it again.'

'I heard that' Stephen interjected. The battery was getting low on his iPod and he had just switched it off.

'You gave us blood' Shannon interjected, heading from the kitchen with a can of soda, 'I swear to God, actual blood, to _eat_' she declared. 'We're vampire slayers, not vampires.'

'It was black pudding and you didn't object until I told you what it was' the watcher pointed out, reasonably he thought.

'Greasy congealed blood which you fried up in lard' Shannon added. 'I only ate it because it looked a bit less likely to give me a coronary than the bacon and eggs you had served up with it.'

'All that iron would have been good for you and since when did slayers have trouble keeping off weight?' Stephen asked. 'I'll do the scythe if you want' he offered. 'I'm certain you lot enjoy holding it too much to ever clean it properly' he stated.

Kennedy thought about it. 'Okay, you might as well earn your keep somehow.'

'Hey I've more than earned my meagre pay recently' Stephen retorted as Kennedy went to fetch it from where it was hanging up in the arms locker. 'It's not like any of you wooden stake flingers knew anything about Phoenician mythology' he noted.

'Just don't get in the way when the action starts' Kennedy told him, returning with her scythe which she passed down to him almost reluctantly, instantly missing the buzz you got off it which she thought was even greater for her than the others, the new scythes felt like Willow somehow which for Kennedy was wonderful and couldn't help but make her smile.

Stephen took the scythe and looked it over, it wouldn't rust but it wasn't as clean and shiny as it could have been. 'Did somebody wipe this off with one of the kitchen cloths?' he asked. 'It smells like coffee' he said, getting to work.

'If anybody did I'm going to kick their ass' Kennedy declared coldly, looking around for a guilty face. Most of the girls were elsewhere though and it wasn't likely the responsible party would coincidentally be there.

Shannon took a swig from her can of drink. 'So what's the plan with Berith when he turns up?' she asked.

'Big demon plus shiny scythe equals two or more smaller pieces of demon' Kennedy replied with a chuckle. 'If it gets bad we can have a couple of hundred slayers on the ground within a day, less if Illyria's around to Portal them in.'

'I do hope that's not hubris rearing its ugly head' Stephen observed from his position on the floor. 'Pride goeth before a fall.'

'Demons falleth before the hot chicks with the pointy sticks' Kennedy responded with a grin. 'Plan is for Buffy and Faith to be here with their scythes too plus Willow and Wes if we need some magicks thrown about, maybe Illyria too for major league backup. It'll make the resources we took into the Hellmouth to fight the First and his army look downright wussy I'm telling you.'

'Whatever you say but I'm still going to insist on an extra hours training per day from each of you' Stephen told them. 'You might be the hot chicks with pointy sticks but I'm the sadistic git with the pokey one' he declared. 'Lots more getting hit with my bamboo cane in fencing practice from now on I'm afraid ladies.'

Shannon groaned. Why couldn't she be a better shot? If she was she could be in Pylea instead.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – April 2004**

Stirling scratched his arm. He had been told the glyphs painted on his body sometimes made the wearer itch for a week or so after application and he was one of the unfortunates to which that happened. He understood the need to wear the symbols on your skin, it buggered up the ability of mages and seers on the other side to detect and track you, and even made using spells against you tricky because they threw off targeting, but he just hoped they were right that the damn things could be removed once he went home because he'd look ridiculous going to a sauna with his body covered in what looked like tattoos applied by a lunatic.

The watcher spotted something as he looked around 'Bloody hell' Stirling swore and physically turned Wesley around facing him Eastwards as something raced towards them along the road. The human mercenaries down there must have radioed for assistance once the mortars started landing and a large wheeled armoured vehicle was now rolling towards the battle, kicking up dust as it went.

They knew that Wolfram and Hart used these things in their Holding Dimensions, Illyria had told them of wrecking two armoured troop carriers during an excursion to one in the original timeline but it was still nonetheless an unwelcome visitor especially given that under closer examination with binoculars it seemed to be mounting a heavy machinegun in a small turret on top. Wesley didn't doubt the crew would happily fire into both slayers and demons once they had line-of-sight. 'I'm take one of the RPG's and try to tag it' Wesley announced and looked around for one of the Rocket Propelled Grenade Launchers they had bought along, though more in case they met a particularly large demon than expecting the arrival of enemy armour.

'I don't think that's necessary my boy' Stirling responded, indicating something else.

Wolfram and Hart had picked up a number of these eight-wheeled BTR-70 APC's after the collapse of the USSR thinking they'd be handy. They weren't exactly built for comfort, at speed they rattled around enough to shake your teeth loose and any half-decent rocket-launcher would blow them all to hell but they were immune to small arms fire and carried a decent heavy machinegun in a tiny turret to give it some punch. They were riding into a combat situation, a squad of troops in the back ready for action, a man in the turret and the driver with the hatch closed, looking at the world through a tiny armoured glass slit which restricted his view so much he didn't even see the blur coming straight down the road towards them.

Kicking up almost as much dust as the APC the fast moving streak suddenly became solid directly in front of them and the driver by reflex slammed on the brakes before it somehow jumped right on top of the vehicle in what must have been a thirty foot leap.

Wesley watched as Glory landed on top of the armoured vehicle, took hold of the small turret and ripped it clean off, throwing the thing to the side.

The gunner suddenly found himself with his head sticking out of a hole in the top of the APC where his turret had just been, looking straight at an extremely attractive blond woman wearing military clothing and what honestly looked like an apologetic expression. 'It's nothing personal' she told him and promptly grabbed his head, twisted it clean off and threw it away as she had the turret itself.

Glory jumped off the APC landing beside it. She seized hold of the side of the thing and with some effort on her part, it did after all weigh almost fourteen tonnes, she turned it over onto its side before moving to the rear and ripping the back doors off. Wesley stopped watching when she climbed in and parts of the men inside started flying back out. 'So much for that then' he said in an off-handed manner, and went back to watching the main event as the demon army continued to dwindle in number.

Wesley could see that some of the slayers had fallen, only wounded he hoped as their chain-mail armour and intrinsic resistance to physical impact damage should help protect them from the worst effects of enemy swords and clubs, but it was certainly possible that slayers also lay dead amongst the demon corpses carpeting the ground. Any that were merely wounded, even in ways that would have been mortal by human standards would almost certainly recover but if any of the girls were dead down there they wouldn't have been the first to end their days on Pylea nor likely the last. There was a price to be paid for victory, the only redeeming thing about it was its lightness compared to the cost of defeat.

Fighting as they had been trained the slayers fought as a unit not a rabble, soldiers not warriors. A warrior might defeat a soldier in single combat, a dozen warriors match a dozen soldiers in a skirmish but as the numbers grew on each side the balance of effectiveness more and more favoured organisation and discipline over raw courage and the demons surfeit of the latter was no match for the slayers monopoly of the former. The girls simply gutted and smashed aside anything in front of them, each slayer supported by the one on their left and right.

'I suspect they may have problems adjusting to being back home' Wesley opined as the slayer line continued to slaughter demons en-masse. They were approaching the end game now, pressure on the slayer line slackening while the girls themselves weren't letting up on the enemy.

Stirling nodded. 'I would have to concur' he agreed. 'Bloody useful in a scrap though' he added, watching one girl head-butt the demon directly in front of her while sticking her short-sword through the throat of the next.

'Oh yes' Wesley agreed. 'You've got to feel sorry for the next bastard who thinks he can start an apocalypse back on Earth, we'll just drop a couple of dozen of these hellions on him and stand back.'

A deafening screech caught Wesley by surprise and he span to see a shape in the sky heading towards them.

'Well I'll be buggered' Stirling said in amazement. 'It's a ruddy dragon.'

'Air support I suppose' Wesley responded evenly. 'We'd better shoot the bloody thing down before it torches the girls' he declared, flicking on his radio. Bullets wouldn't stop it and he'd rather try something else before firing off another Eighty-Thousand Dollars worth of Surface-to-Air Missile. 'Rika' he said. 'There's a dragon approaching from the South, you should be well in range with that cannon of yours before it can try a strafing run.'

Rika put her Sniper Rifle down and picked up the XM109 again, aiming to the south as she pulled back the cocking handle. She had reloaded it ready in case it was needed. 'Ready' she announced as the Dragon entered her field of view, almost seeming to slowly lumber through the sky.

Wesley picked up one of their SA-14 shoulder-launched missiles just in case the girl missed, as he did a random thought crossed his mind and despite the gravity of the situation he couldn't help but grin. 'Rika' he said. 'Chap with wings, five rounds rapid' he ordered.

The sound of the oversized rifle firing boomed across the battlefield as Vi prepared to order a final charge to finish off the enemy and inwardly bemoaned the fact they didn't have a flag to raise afterwards. It just seemed like there was something missing without a nice flag, she thought to herself regretfully as Rika shot down a dragon and wondered if she was going to get a bonus for that. Well at least Perković, who was still back at camp teaching the locals to shoot would be jealous she decided but she did expect him to note that while they were keeping score on sniper kills with each other, the dragon still only counted as one.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This fanfic runs on reviews, hope you're still enjoying it._


	18. Chapter 18

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – April 2004**

'Let me go' the girl screamed, trying to struggle free but unable to do so with four other slayers holding her down on the ground.

Denise reached over and slapped her round the face which got her undivided attention despite the nasty gash in her leg that had already soaked though the material of her fatigues and was now dripping blood into the dirt. 'If you don't keep still you'll just open your leg up even more' she declared before ripping the material to reveal the extent of the wound. 'Okay slap on the hot iron and we'll sort out the next one' she told the slayer kneeling behind her heating up the tip of a large bowie knife to glowing red with a small blowtorch.

'Please don't' the girl being held down pleaded.

'Pain is just weakness leaving the body' Denise told her. 'Now bite down on this' she added sticking a leather strap in the girls mouth before the red hot metal was pressed against the wound with a stomach churning sizzling sound and the whiff of scorched flesh as the wound was sealed closed. They'd already given her a shot of morphine to relieve the worst of the pain but it would have still hurt like hell.

Wesley looked down. 'You'll be fine' he told the girl who had tears in her eyes as they let her go. 'You won't even have a mark on your skin in a couple of days' he reassured her as Denise covered the scorched flesh with antiseptic gel and started to bandage it up.

Denise winked at her. 'I got a bullet right through my leg and you'd never know' she told the girl. 'Consider this your official welcome to Pylea' she added as Wesley headed off.

'Got the final tally Sir' Ashton announced, jogging over to Wesley and saluting. 'Eighteen wounded, four seriously but not life threatening, at least not to a slayer' he reported. 'One dead' he added regretfully. 'Medics just lost Kimberly' he explained.

Wesley mouthed a silent obscenity and started walking across the corpse strewn battlefield with Ashton following half a step behind. 'She only just got here' he said angrily, pausing to kick the corpse of a large demon in the ribs.

'Usually the way Sir' Ashton replied. 'Didn't know when to take a step back and got a spear in the guts, ended up in her spine, it's a pity she didn't die straight away' he opined, 'would have saved her a lot of pain.'

'They gave her morphine I hope?' Wesley asked. A number of the girls had been trained up as combat medics and they should have made the young girls last few minutes as tranquil as possible.

The mercenary nodded. 'Plenty' he replied. They had drugged her up to the eyeballs.

'Good' Wesley told him. Get enough of that stuff in you and you felt bloody marvellous regardless of how badly hurt you really were, he knew that from experience.

Most of the girls were still moving across the battlefield looking for signs of life amongst the enemy. Where they found it they finished them off quickly, it was partially to keep up their reputation as stone killers amongst the opposition but was also a mercy in many cases, they were in no position to look after the demon wounded even if they wanted to and better a quick death than slowly bleeding to death.

The new intake were clearly less comfortable with the process than the experienced girls and many were reluctant to simply follow suit when they saw a veteran slayer plunge her sword into a wounded enemy soldier, be that enemy merely a demon or not, and they _weren't_ all demons.

Lucy used her boot to roll the body of a large furry demon over to check what was underneath and found herself looking at the terrified expression of a man wearing the black fatigues of a Wolfram and Hart mercenary soldier who had been cowering beneath. Her rifle snapped up and levelled itself at his face, her trigger finger half pulled as he started to shake uncontrollably. 'Please' he begged, 'I surrender, please don't kill me' he pleaded.

'Got a live one' Lucy called out loudly, 'human' she continued. 'Are we taking prisoners?' she asked coolly, keeping her weapon aimed and her eyes fixed upon him.

'You're not going to kill him are you?' one of the newer girls asked nervously.

'Waiting for confirmation on that' Lucy replied evenly. 'They're here to kill _us_ rookie, don't go getting sentimental about the bastards.'

'But he's human' the girl protested, 'and he's surrendering.'

Lucy smirked. 'Yeah we find it easier to never give them a chance to do that' she replied. 'Roll a grenade in before they put their hands up mostly' she continued. 'Of course I'll give them some credit, they've usually got more guts than this asshole' she added disparagingly.

'Summary execution of human prisoners will _not_ be a feature of my command young lady' Stirling declared, walking towards them.

'Guess it's your lucky day' Lucy told the Wolfram and Hart soldier. 'Get up, and put your hands behind your head' she ordered. 'So much as twitch and I'll blow your brains out' she told him seriously. 'There's a wire garrotte in my left jacket pocket' she told the new girl. 'You can use it to tie his hands together, wind it tight so if he struggles it'll cut his wrists to shreds' she ordered.

Stirling looked the black clad mercenary over as he got up. 'It's amazing what people will do for money' he said with a sigh before putting on a serious expression. 'Listen up boy' he told the prisoner, 'I might not support shooting you out-of-hand but if you attempt to escape I'll shoot you in the back myself' he declared, tapping the holstered pistol at his hip. 'I've killed plenty of men who I would hold in higher regard than a wretched traitor to his species like you' he stated.

'I haven't hurt anyone' the prisoner declared, as the girl started to bind his wrists. 'I only got here last week as a replacement' he told them. 'The money was just too good, they're paying four times normal salary to come here' he explained.

'The money's that good because we keep killing you guys off as fast as you're replaced dipshit' Lucy retorted. 'Mess with the best, die like the rest' she declared. 'Find his guns and bring them along, they might be worth keeping' she told the new girl. 'Not all their stuff is crap.'

The elderly watcher looked around. A few girls were starting to sort through the various melee weapons the demons had been carrying, mainly concentrating on the swords in case they could be of use. Any that were too crude or damaged were being dumped into piles for destruction and Stirling watched with some mild fascination as Illyria had found another use for Glory, having her snap the unwanted weapons over her knee, often several at once, leaving heaps of broken blades in the Hellgods wake.

For her part Illyria was walking back from the vicinity of the overturned armoured personnel carrier with the heavy machinegun from the turret over her shoulder and carrying the boxes of spare ammunition for it under her other arm. A slayer finished recovering the crews personal weapons and as a parting gift threw an incendiary grenade into the back of the machine which soon started blazing away as it's internal fixtures caught fire. The remains of the men who had been inside got a better funeral than the rest of the enemy who were going to be left to rot in the sun, there's no point making an example if you don't leave plenty of hard evidence behind for the ones you're trying to influence.

'We're heading out in fifteen minutes' Wesley announced. 'I want any girl who can't move under her own steam carried and I want a volunteer to carry Kimberly because she's going to get a proper burial back at camp' he told them. 'If you haven't got anything to carry already go find Rika and Jailbait and help them carve up the dragon' he ordered. The worst thing possible, especially for the newbies would be to let them stop and think about it all, far better to keep them active and distracted, and besides which dragon parts were good money, if they could keep knocking one down every couple of months or so the Pylean War would actually be making a Net profit.

Wesley noticed an ornate dagger in the dirt and bent down to pick it up. It must have belonged to one of the demon officers and he examined it carefully, it wasn't a good design in terms of practically but it would make a decent souvenir he decided and pocketed it. A couple of the girls had adopted a more gruesome collecting habit and he guessed the one over yonder was using the pommel of her short-sword to smash out a demons fangs for a necklace or something. He couldn't exactly say he approved but he wasn't going to try and stop her, for one thing it would have been incredibly hypocritical given the kinds of trophies his own girlfriend was known to collect.

He was due to return home in a weeks time and Wesley wondered how easy the adjustment would be, both for himself but especially for the girls returning with him. The way things were done here was so different to the slayer life back home there was bound to be plenty of friction between the returning gunslayers and the girls back home not to mention arguments over tactics and methods. He hoped he could help them, and he would try as best he could, but Wesley doubted it would go smoothly, life rarely did.

Well at least some of the pressure was going to be lifting here soon, Wesley thought, the first company of the new Pylean Defence Forces would be taking the field against the enemy in the next couple of days with numbers expected to rise to three companys, around six hundred native Pylean human and demon troops, by the end of May. Some of them would have been in training for nearly three months by the time they saw action which put them in a different league from most rebel armies, they were now fully used to their new weapons, trained in small-unit tactics and had proper military discipline installed to bolster their personal desire to get back at the invader.

Wesley smiled, they weren't gunslayers by any means but there was still something extremely intimidating about the thought of a large number of the Deathwok Clan coming at you with AK-47's. Their initial resistance to using such a dishonourable weapon was quickly fading in the light of its apparent effectiveness, and of course the fact they really seemed to like the sound the things made. The Groosalugg had done good work in helping form the collection of demon and human rebels into a cohesive unit despite the racial tensions, he was a better motivational speaker than most people would give him credit for and he had respect from all sides, his mixed heritage helping bridge the species gap as much as his stirring calls to unite as Pyleans and fight the foreign occupier shoulder to shoulder.

'Wellington said that nothing except a battle lost can be half as melancholy as a battle won' Stirling told Wesley, interrupting his chain of thought.

Wesley nodded. 'Given the choice I'll take the latter every time' he replied. 'You can get over depression easier than defeat.'

Stirling looked around. 'And to think we used to worry about a few vampires when there were demon armies like this lurking behind the dimensional curtain.'

'If you'll forgive the phrasing we're doing a sterling job of depleting their numbers' Wesley replied with a smile.

The old watcher nodded. 'Hard to dispute that notion' he agreed. 'The buggers can't keep taking losses on this scale without starting to feel the pinch.'

'And then we go looking to the next dimension I imagine' Wesley noted, 'and then the next after that, unceasing warfare for centuries, millennia perhaps.'

'Chances are I won't even be around for the victory parade on this one' Stirling replied wryly.

Wesley shrugged. 'I suspect the only person who'll still be around at the very end will be my ever affectionate and violence-enthused demon-deity of a girlfriend' he said. 'I imagine it will all be terribly anti-climatic for her.'

'When Illyria saw the breadth of her domain she wept for there were no more universes to conquer' Stirling joked.

'If she slept the thought would keep her up at night' Wesley responded. 'She thinks very long-term you know.'

The two watchers observed the girls going about their bloody business quietly for a while until Wesley spoke up again. 'So I hear that you gave Medousa a damn good rodgering?' he asked, trying not to laugh.

Stirling looked annoyed for a few seconds then smirked. 'When endulging in sexual congress with figures of supposed myth better a good rodgering than a good arthuring I suppose' he retorted.

Wesley looked at him in confusion, maybe the old boy was going senile he wondered.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles - April 2004**

Gunn yelped as he hit his fingers with the hammer and grimaced with the pain. He couldn't figure out how Xander had managed to make this carpentry stuff look so effortless but with him gone off to lead the Shadow Valley construction project somebody had to carry out the basic maintenance of the building and Gunn liked to think of himself as handy with tools as well as an axe.

'That hurt did it?' Spike asked, sticking his head around the corner looking into the room where Gunn was trying to make a new storage cabinet. 'I guess that thud I heard followed by the scream was you mashing your thumb.'

'It ain't too bad' Gunn replied shaking it off.

'Why not just buy one and get it delivered?' Spike asked.

Gunn rolled his eyes. 'You can't buy racks for grenade launchers on eBay and they were all out of eBad' he retorted.

Spike shrugged. 'Just a suggestion Charlie-Boy' he replied. 'We expecting a new shipment from our quasi-evil arms dealer then?' he asked.

Gunn nodded and tested his fingers, they were bruised but nothing was broken apparently. 'Another shipment going to Pylea and some extra hardware for us to keep here' he replied.

'The chippy makes it look easy doesn't he' Spike asked with a smile.

'Chippie?' Gunn queried.

'British slang for a carpenter' Spike explained, 'Xander I mean.'

Gunn sighed. 'I think his hands are smarter than his mouth' he declared. 'I watched him completely fix a room from the floorboards up faster than I can finish this cabinet' he said sadly.

Spike chuckled. 'Jesus was a carpenter' he pointed out. 'God's probably got a special place in his heart for them, can't hurt to have friends in high places' he opined then a wry smile spread across his face. 'Ironic that a chippy was executed by being nailed to two pieces of wood when you think about it' he added with a grin.

'Getting towards blasphemy there' Gunn told him.

'Carrying a demon' Spike pointed out. 'The man upstairs should make allowances.'

Gunn smiled. 'Guess you'll find out one day if he does.'

'Hoping to get myself a guaranteed pass for the Holy Gates first and I'm well into debit on that score' Spike replied.

'You're a believer then?' Gunn asked.

'Been burned by too many crosses not to be pretty certain there's something in it' Spike replied. 'I can't say I'm a monotheist though, the bibles wrong on that score, I've already met and been personally beaten up by two lesser Gods and those ones Willow prays to seem to have some truth to them as well' he continued.

Gunn picked up the hammer again. 'I asked Giles about that once and he said it was all down to a mistranslation' he told Spike.

'Yeah?' Spike queried.

'Yeah' Gunn replied. 'In the original books of the Old Testament, like Genesis I mean, it doesn't say "The Lord God" it says "The Lord of The Gods", it was just mistranslated into English.'

'You're kidding?' Spike responded in surprise.

'Nope' Gunn replied. 'That's what he told me and the man knows his stuff, God, I mean Jehovah the real deal, might be infallible but that doesn't mean the guys who wrote it all down were and I can live with that' he said.

Spike smiled. 'If people were more relaxed and less dogmatic about their faith like you are there would be a lot less trouble in the world.'

'Believing in God doesn't mean you've got to turn off your brain' Gunn replied. 'So are you going to help me with this or just stand there stopping me working all day?' he asked sardonically.

'I'm not holding any nails for you' Spike replied, taking off his duster and handing it over a nearby chair. 'If you can hit your own hand you're not safe with mine.'

'Oh come on' Gunn retorted, 'you're a vampire it's not like it'll cause any lasting damage.'

'Temporary pain is all the deterrent I need' Spike told him. 'And I don't want to see any long sharp pieces of wood flying about when you start cutting timber' he stated seriously as he got down to help work on the cabinet.

When Buffy looked in ten minutes later she couldn't help but grin at the sight of Spike working with a jigsaw, his short peroxide blond hair full of sawdust and a look of fierce concentration on his face as he cut small wooden blocks to size. He wasn't very good at it but it was nice to see him do something so ordinary, just doing some DIY around the house like a normal guy on his day off.

She considered asking him to cut some stakes while he was at it but he clearly wasn't much good at carpentry and that might have gone against the grain both figuratively and in reality she thought, laughing at her own joke which caused Spike to scowl because he thought she was laughing at him when he looked up. He was trying his bleeding best wasn't he? Buffy made amends by going away and returning a couple of minutes later bringing them both a cold beer from the refrigerator. Beer might be bad but it made a great peace offering sometimes. The slayer drew the line at Spikes request she make him up a nice pint of blood with a dash of otter and vole for flavour though.

Spike made a mental note to get Knibblet to make him up a packed lunch with a thermos flask full of her finest blend for later on after the sun went down after Gunn got him to agree to help fix a small leak up on the roof. A working man had to keep his strength up right?

Anyhow, getting to berate Angel afterwards for not getting off his fat lazy arse to help out, and him having to just sit there and take it, was worth a few hours of anybody's time Spike decided happily.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This Fanfic runs on reviews._

_Nb. If anyone is interested in seeing what some of the gunslayer weaponry looks like, go to my profile page, click on the link to the Compelled Series over on Twisting the Hellmouth, and then take a look at "Gunslayer Gear"._


	19. Chapter 19

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – April 2004**

'Your martial skills are abysmal' Illyria noted, effortlessly avoiding Glory's punch and countering with a sharp crack on the Hellgod's nose with the flat of her hand, not hard enough to cause injury but it would certainly sting.

Glory stepped back and blinked a few times. The Old One's blow would have likely flattened a slayer or killed a human outright but Glory was built considerably tougher than that, she did reach up to check her nose wasn't bleeding though. 'I didn't hear any complaining earlier' she retorted, 'just lots of screaming.'

Illyria snorted and beckoned Glory forward to resume sparring once again. 'The ability to slaughter enemies who possess less than a tenth your strength is no indication of skill' she declared. 'To defeat an enemy that is actually _stronger_ than yourself through superior technique is a feat far more worthy of a warrior.'

'Save me the Combat Zen speech' Glory responded and launched into a series of punches and kicks which Illyria blocked and dodged successfully, moving in a economical, fluid, almost mechanistic style that was her trademark. Eventually the God-King saw an opening as Glory unbalanced herself and with a combination one-two punch put the Hellgod on the ground hard.

As the slayers watching the sparring session showed their appreciation with a ragged round of applause Illyria reached down to help Glory back to her feet. 'You are physically stronger than I, but always keep in mind which one of us is wearing the slave collar and why' she pointed out smugly.

Glory reluctantly took the offered hand and rose back to her feet, dusting off her scruffy combat fatigues before self-consciously running he finger around the inside of the metal studded leather collar the blue-haired bitch made her wear as a symbol of her subjection, it was designed to be humiliating and it was. 'I could rip this off whenever I wanted' she stated.

'And you would dislike the manner in which I forced you to put on the replacement' Illyria replied evenly. 'You remain my slave until you earn your freedom, only then will I release you from servitude and then fulfil my part of the bargain to assist the re-conquest of your home dimension' the God-King noted. 'If it helps live with the humiliation my Wesley admitted that he finds the collar around your neck extremely attractive.'

'Oh yeah because if I _wanted_ to attract men I'd need a kinky gimmick' Glory replied shaking her head so her long blond tresses fell properly back into place. 'If zoophilia _was_ my thing I could choose any human I wanted, but indulging in sex with a lower life-form is _your_ nauseatingly repellent hobby not mine.'

Illyria turned away and started heading back towards the camp. 'Don't knock it until you've tried it' she replied, 'and do _not_ denigrate my Consort again or you will provoke my wrath' she added sternly. 'In belittling him you belittle me also.'

'I've heard _you_ call him a lower life-form to his face' Glory called after her.

'The mistress is allowed the luxury of hypocrisy, the slave does what she is told' Illyria replied, continuing on her way. 'And help gather wood for a campfire tonight' she added.

Glory considered giving the departing Illyria the finger but she was still being watched by a few of the slayers who would rat her out, watching the two gods spar was quite the spectator sport and besides which Vi made sure that Glory was kept under surveillance.

Looking for an appropriate tree she could push over and then break up for the fire Glory frowned, hadn't she already earned a bit more respect and consideration? Only that morning she and Illyria had jointly devastated a full cohort of Sebassis Troops, along with an equal number of Narweks native forces, in a large occupation-friendly settlement a hundred miles to the South-East. They simply walked into the town, when most of the inhabitants and the garrison were still having breakfast, killed anything that put up a fight, stacked the bodies in the town square and then ran back to the forest camp after informing the horrified civilian populace that anyone that collaborated with the invader risked being dealt with harshly. Glory had to admit Illyria really knew how to make a speech, although to be honest it probably helped boost the gravitas of her words that she was using the pile of bodies as a speaking platform, it's the showmanship that counts sometimes.

They were coming to the end of their excursion to Pylea and Glory would _not_ be missing the place. Cleaning the dirt out from under her fingernails every couple of hours, endlessly having to wash herself and her hair clean of blood when the only available bathing facility was a stream, wearing ugly military style clothes which didn't fit properly and eating terrible food was really starting to lose its appeal, not that it ever had any. The Hellgod could not remotely understand why Illyria thought the world was conceivably worth all the effort and resources both sides were pouring into the struggle to control this primitive dump.

'The greatest of the Triumvirate reduced to a lackey' Glory muttered to herself as she pushed over a tree and began to dismantle it by brute force, breaking branches six inches in diameter over her knee like kindling. 'I should have listened to that prophetess instead of having her walled up in that cave' she added with a sigh.

'Need a hand with that?' a man asked.

'If I needed a hand from you I'd tear it off your wrist but I guess it would be cruel to ruin your love life like that' Glory replied scornfully. 'Can't you take a hint, I'm not interested.'

Ashton rested the hand-axe he was carrying against his shoulder. 'Yeah that became pretty clear when you told me not if I was the last sentient being in the multiverse and all the batteries had run out' he replied. 'I might just be a grunt but I can understand subtle hints like that.'

'Smarter than you look' Glory told the mercenary. 'Get lost' she continued. 'I don't associate with the hired help.'

'You've got delusions of grandeur' Ashton told the Hellgod, 'at least I get _paid_ for my work, that puts me higher up the social scale than you sweetheart' he told her. '_I'm_ not the one that can be auctioned off' he noted. 'Has Illyria got you branded?' he asked, then grinned. 'You can show me where if you like.'

Glory wondered what kind of beating she would get for ripping the annoying little insects head off and decided it wasn't worth it. 'Why don't you just have some fun with one of those slayer sluts?' she asked. 'They haven't got my standards.'

Ashton hefted the axe. 'They're too young for my tastes and if I'm only going to get to _look_, the view's better over here' he replied honestly. Many of the girls were pretty enough, some to the point of downright gorgeous in fact, but Glory was something else, the whole package was close to the mercenaries physical ideal and although on other criteria she was far from the perfect woman, Ashton was comfortable enough with his shallowness.

'Well duh' Glory responded sarcastically, she knew she was beautiful and perfect. Her standards must be slipping too because if this was the only adoration in town she'd decided she'd take it. 'You can strip those branches there' she told him.

The mercenary nodded and got to work. He had only just returned from a mission with one of the new Pylean volunteer units and he was pretty tired but Glory really was worth looking at, even if it was intimidating as hell to watch her in action, strength wise she made the slayers look… well human by comparison he decided. 'So do you come here often?' he asked tongue-in-cheek.

'Keep trying to hit on me and I'll hit on you monkey-boy' Glory told him, raising a fist.

'If I thought it would work it'd be worth it' Ashton replied.

Glory rolled her eyes. 'Another revelation from Captain Obvious' she observed.

'_Corporal _Obvious' Ashton responded deadpan. 'Not an officer, I work for a living.

'Not enough brains to be promoted?' Glory queried. 'Guess you wouldn't even make a decent snack if I got hungry' she continued sarcastically.

'You could be right there' Ashton agreed. 'So I suppose I'm only good for looking at too then' he added wryly.

Glory sighed, they'd better win the damn war soon because she couldn't live like this for very long, the company was so far beneath her it was demeaning to even converse with it. 'Unless you're going to be telling me how good I look don't talk to me alright.'

Ashton considered the demand. 'Deal' he agreed. 'That collar makes you look really hot' he told her.

_Got_ to be a guy thing, Glory decided.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – April 2004**

'Blood magic' Willow began, holding up a vial of familiar red liquid. 'It's older and more powerful than our word magic, more primal' she continued. Looking around the conference room.

'Blood is life' Spike interjected. 'It's the essence' he stated seriously.

'Skip lunch did we?' Dawn asked with a grin, Spike gave her a look of rebuke which caused her to blush, blood once again she realised as her cheeks flushed red.

The witch ignored them and continued her presentation. 'Ever since we got hold of the portal key which could transport you to Jasmine's world we've been experimenting with it' she said. 'With Fred's understanding of Portal physics and my, slightly more arcane knowledge, we've been trying to get to grips with the basic principles and then build upon them in an attempt to create a techno-mystical hybrid device that will give us access to other dimensions at will' she explained then indicated for Fred to take over.

The physicist smiled and looked down at her notes. 'The basic problem with portal travel is that unless you're self powered like Illyria for instance you need a psychic hotspot to open one of any useful size or destination, and by doing so you temporarily drain that energy until it recharges' she told the audience. 'The orb, or key, that Angel and Connor took from the big bug might be thought of as an engine that can open a portal at any time between two specific dimensions, and to a specific point in that dimension.'

'Illyria told us that in the original timeline Angel was able to transport himself directly to where Jasmine was rather than to his original point of departure' Willow interjected.

'Right' Fred agreed. 'Now the problem we had was that at first the orb only gave us access to Jasmines old world and it's not somewhere you'd like to visit because the air would corrode your lungs' she continued. 'However the fact that the orb was a _device_, albeit mystical in original, meant we could play with it and use some of both my own research, and that we obtained from the Wolfram and Hart files, to alter its function' she told them. 'In short we added area codes' she joked.

'It wouldn't have worked at all but as well as a boosted engine we also had much better fuel available to run it on' Willow noted. 'The orb opens a pathway between dimensions powered by blood magic, and we've got the highest octane blood for portalling that may have ever existed, blood which was specifically _made_ to do the job.'

'What can I say?' Dawn spoke up. 'I run on rocket fuel' she joked.

Fred bent down and lifted something onto the table from the floor with a small sheet hung over it. 'Want to do the honours?' she asked Willow.

Willow grinned and whisked off the sheet revealing the orb mounted on a metal plinth with an array of crystals and electronic components connected to it including what looked like an LCD display. 'Ladies, Gentlemen and those of a Demonic Nature I give you the universal Portal Picklock' she declared.

Buffy looked at it. 'It works?' she asked. 'You've tested it?'

'Only small scale' Fred admitted. 'We sent something to Pylea, an apple from the kitchen, and Illyria opened a portal at her end and sent it back, with a bite taken out of it and a note to send a Taco next time' she explained with a grin. 'The biggest problem we have at the moment is that unless you take it with you, or there's a friendly God-King already on site, it's a one way trip.'

'We can't copy the crystal' Willow explained apologetically. 'We think it's a mineral native to the demon bugs planet.'

Angel got off his chair and examined the thing closely. 'So how does it work?' he asked. 'I mean in using the thing I don't need to know the physics.'

Fred pointed to a small numerical keypad. 'Every dimension has its own coordinates which we usually open by saying the words that correspond to them' she told him. 'What we've done is convert those into numerical values for all the dimensions we know of from our books so you simply punch in the corresponding number, there's already a few pre-programmed you can select like a cellphone, the electronics converts those into something the orb can understand, and you smear Dawns blood on the crystal to power it up.'

'Not too much of Dawn's blood' Willow warned, 'we think it would overload with much more than a few CC's.'

'Wanna see something cool?' Dawn asked and moved her hand towards the device, leaning across the table. As she did so the crystal started to glow brighter and brighter. 'If I put my hand on it the things starts to vibrate and makes this humming sound' she told everyone.

'Makes me wonder how much fun she's been having with it behind my back' Connor wisecracked then instantly regretted saying it when both Buffy and his father gave him a look that would have stopped Illyria in her tracks. For his part Spike fought back laughter while Faith made no such effort to her own detriment as she nearly drowned in the glass of water she was drinking at the time.

Giles coughed. 'Moving swiftly on I assume we will be using the device for supply runs to Pylea?' he asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

Willow nodded. 'We really don't want to have Illyria offworld when Berith turns up' she opined, 'in fact we'd probably be best off that once she's back she didn't use her powers at all until June, so she's as stable as possible.'

'Not much that can stand up against the Blue Meanie if she can really get stuck in without going up like Chernobyl' Spike observed.

'We're hoping so' Buffy responded. 'I don't want to meet anything she can't beat because I wouldn't want to have to fight it scythe or not.'

Giles folded his arms. 'You began by talking about blood magic' he reminded Willow. 'Might I enquire if you made any progress with that generally?' he asked.

The witch smiled. 'I was hoping someone would ask and I was willing to bet it was going to be you' she continued. 'The orb did give me a new insight into it, to give an analogy, before I was trying to study magnetism when all I had was a few lodestones and a compass as research tools but now I've got a thousand gauss electromagnet to play with and I'm really starting to get somewhere.'

'You might say I'm monitoring her progress keenly' Dawn interjected. 'I've got a vested interest in the research' she added with a knowing smile.

Buffy looked at her sister. 'You're hinting at something' she declared. 'Spill it.'

'Funny you should say it that way that because spilling it is part of the process' Dawn responded. 'In blood magic I mean.'

'You're not dabbling in the Dark Arts are you Dawn?' Giles asked with concern.

'I don't have to' Dawn replied. 'Other people have to channel energy, light or dark' she noted, 'I'm not like them, I _am_ energy I just never had any idea how to use it before.'

'Word magic, my kind of magic wasn't ever going to harness Dawn's potential but as we find out more about portals and their relationship to blood magic we're also finding out more about the very essence of what Dawn really is.'

'I'm being back-engineered' Dawn joked. 'Willow thinks she might be able to find out what makes me tick.'

'Energy and matter are just two sides of the same coin' Fred noted. 'In Dawn's case they're apparently both sides simultaneously somehow, but more than that Dawn herself is self-aware which means that even though she was never intended to do so she might be able to utilise that power herself, if not by conscious choice like Illyria but by a mix of technology and magic.'

'Key and lock as one' Dawn told her sister. 'I think I might visit the world Illyria mentions with all the shrimp, start a seafood import business' she joked. 'Maybe ship to that other dimension that's got none at all Anya's been to, I could charge a premium for new and exciting foodstuffs.'

'You're serious' Buffy asked ignoring Dawn's business plan. 'You think Dawn might be able to do the portal thing on her own like Illyria?' she queried.

'No' Willow replied. 'In terms of dimension jumping Dawn would be at _least_ an order of magnitude more powerful, she could tear through the barriers between realities like tissue paper fuelled by nothing but herself.'

'I'm the original perpetual motion machine' Dawn noted. 'No batteries required' she said with a grin.

'Control will be the biggest obstacle' Fred noted. 'If anything Dawn is too powerful, Knox has called her "over-engineered" and that's a fair comment if dehumanising even if Dawn calls herself a device.'

'We're _all_ machines, you're electrochemical, I'm just more… esoteric' Dawn responded. 'I'm as real as _any_ of you, I'm just _different_ and that doesn't bother me like it used to' she said with a smile. Connor had helped out with that a great deal, he was just created for the benefit of a higher power too and he was still a person, so was Illyria for that matter and underneath the surface the way _her_ body worked was truly alien.

'So we're not really talking Super-Dawn, just _Slider_-Dawn' Faith asked. 'Hey I thought Jerry O'Connell was kinda cute when I was a kid okay?' she declared defensively when Buffy gave her a look. Faith used to watch the show with her watcher sometimes, although _she_ preferred the fat English guy, something about putting university professors in a better light.

'I missed the later seasons because I ended up in Pylea but from what I hear I didn't miss much' Fred interjected. 'Sorry' she apologised sheepishly when Buffy redirected her gaze in the physicists direction.

'Well if nothing else Illyria will be pleased I'm sure at us increasing our dimension jumping potential' Giles opined. 'She does seem to be a rather reluctant taxi service to Pylea sometimes.'

'She'd rather be out busting heads' Spike noted, 'Woman after my own heart she is.'

'The only women after _your_ heart are carrying wooden stakes' Angel declared with a smirk.

'Did you hear that?' Spike objected. 'I did _nothing_ to provoke that' he said. 'The next time he claims I'm the one that always starts it I hope you'll all remember he's no angel himself, name be damned.'

Connor grinned. 'Don't worry I'll use it the next time he calls _me_ childish' he told Spike.

'There you see' Spike told Angel, 'what kind of example are you setting for the boy?' he asked smugly.

'Don't make me break you two up' Buffy told the vampires, 'and I _don't_ mean separate you' she added threateningly.

Dawn turned to Connor. 'You see that?' she asked rhetorically. 'They all resort to violence in the end.'

'It's disheartening' Connor replied, playing along. 'What about make love not war?'

'And _that_ had better not be happening either' Buffy responded quickly, looking from one to the other.

'So I shouldn't mention the possibility of you being Aunty Buffy then?' Dawn asked deadpan, eyes twinkling.

'Not if you want _him_ to be able to walk' Buffy replied, indicating Connor.

Angel crossed his arms. 'He's my son and you don't get to beat him up' he stated seriously. 'Not until he recovers from what _I'd_ do to him anyway' he added, only partially in jest.

Connor grimaced and turned to his girlfriend. 'So if we ever need an escape plan in a hurry when do you reckon you're going to get this portal thing to work?' he asked.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_In the absence of dimensional key based fuels this fanfic continues to run on reviews._


	20. Chapter 20

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – April 2004**

'What the hell did Illyria do to Glory?' Dawn asked Wesley quietly, staring at the bedraggled sickly Hellgod sat alone at the dining room table. 'Not that I bet she didn't deserve it' she added.

Wesley smirked as he continued to pour a large cup of coffee from the insulated plastic jug that had been put out. 'Illyria didn't do a thing to her' he answered and stepped away from the serving counter so the line of girls queuing up neatly behind could get their own. They had only returned from Pylea less than twenty minutes before and they were looking forward to getting a proper breakfast after three months of field rations. It was closer to evening than morning in LA but they were on Pylean time which was shifted several hours and would be for a few days yet.

Dawn watched Wesley curiously as he walked over to Glory and with what looked like a modicum of empathy and pity place the coffee in front of her. 'Stop drinking it if you feel queasy' he advised the Hellgod who looked up at him with bleary eyes and without saying thanks picked up the cup.

Wesley returned to where Dawn was and tried to decide what he wanted to eat, Andrew had prepared a wide choice as he weighed the pros and cons of scrambled eggs he thought Dawn might appreciate an explanation as much as she seemed to appreciate Glory's obvious discomfort. 'Well we found out something during the going home party last night' he told her. 'At some level Glory's biology is a _lot_ closer to ours than it is Illyria's' he continued. 'She got totally hammered on cheap Scotch and now she's got a deity sized hangover to contend with.'

Dawn looked at Glory again. 'You're kidding?' she asked, before breaking out into laughter.

'No I'm not' Wesley replied, shaking his head. 'Wait until you see her do the Macarena, one of the girls grabbed a video camera and recorded it for posterity.'

'Now I _know_ you're making it up' Dawn declared.

Wesley shook his head. 'I wish I were' he replied, 'the locals ran away screaming, we try not to even _whistle_ when we're there normally, the Pyleans hate it, but she did the whole song with actions and then started bawling everyone out for not joining in.'

'How can a God get drunk and then have a hangover?' Dawn asked incredulously.

'Ben was almost fully Homo-Sapiens' Wesley replied, 'when they divided Glory got all the power but presumably she retained some of that legacy beyond her external human appearance' he theorised. 'Interestingly enough that makes her somewhat similar to a slayer' he continued. 'Human with demonic enhancements rather than pure demon, although in Glory's case the power boost is naturally even more pronounced than say your sisters' he said. 'The human form shouldn't really be able to contain that level of power but Ben was specifically made to be a prison for Glory so his other gift to her was what Illyria might term an extra durable shell otherwise she might have self-destructed by now.'

'Glory's human?' Dawn queried doubtfully.

Wesley shrugged. 'To a degree it seems' he replied. 'Though so was Lucrezia Borgia' he added, 'so it's not in itself any indication she's any less self-absorbed, amoral or unpleasant that she might have been in her original condition.'

'Illyria can't get drunk can she?' Dawn queried.

'Not hardly' Wesley responded. 'She wears her human appearance like a set of clothes by comparison, rocket fuel and sulphuric acid chasers might give her a buzz but alcohol wouldn't even register. I might be bothered that my girlfriend can easily drink me under the table but compared to her other superiorities over me it seems fairly trivial.'

'Where is Illyria anyhow?' Dawn asked, looking around.

'Checking her email apparently' Wesley responded, rolling his eyes slightly.

'Her email?' Dawn repeated.

'She plays computer games on-line with some club or something and they're in some kind of league apparently' he responded. 'She wanted to see how they got on while she was away and tell them she was available for the next match.'

Dawn blinked. 'Illyria plays for a gaming clan?' she asked in surprise.

'Something called Counter-Strike' Wesley told her. 'She keeps trying to get me to try it, she says my hand-eye coordination and weapons knowledge would be handy but it just all seems so puerile' he opined.

'We've saved you a place Sir' one of the girls who had just got back from Pylea interrupted. Most of the gunslayers had already collected their food and had sat down at a long table made by pushing a few together into a line.

'Thank you Susan, I'll join you in a minute' Wesley replied and after giving a sharp, shallow nod of recognition in lieu of a salute the girl carried her own tray to join the others.

'Still got them calling you Sir then?' Dawn observed.

'It's not like I ever made it compulsory although I think Ashton encouraged it in order to set up a proper rank and command structure' Wesley answered. 'They've graded themselves you know' he continued, 'Gunslayer First Class to Third Class based on seniority and they decided to start calling Vi "Gunslayer-Chef" so that she outranks the rest of them.'

Dawn raised her eyebrows, it all sounded very paramilitary. 'How long until Vi gets back?'

Wesley started loading his tray with food having made his selections. 'She and the other girls who stayed on to help the new girls adjust will be on Pylea another month, that should be enough time for a proper handover' he replied. 'Most of them are Gunslayer First Class which is roughly equivalent to Sergeant I suppose, you can get promoted to Second Class based on nothing but field time but moving up from there requires command ability too. Some people are just not cut out to give orders.'

'So if it's based of ability to give orders Illyria makes Godslayer-Chef then?' Dawn joked.

Wesley grimaced. 'Don't say that in front of her' he asked. 'She's already got too many titles, self-appointed or otherwise and it's not like she stops using them even if they haven't carried any weight since before dinosaurs walked the earth.'

'I don't know' Dawn responded trying to keep a straight face. 'The "God-King" thing might make a comeback in the future, you never know.'

Wesley laughed, what were the chances? 'Can you imagine how insufferable she'd be?' he asked rhetorically. 'I mean, I love her but there's a limit to how much egotism a man can take.'

Dawn nodded her agreement. 'And that would make you Princess, I mean Prince Consort right?' she asked. This must be how Illyria felt much of the time, knowing something incredibly important and amusing but not letting on until the last minute.

'I suppose it would' Wesley replied thoughtfully. 'Like Albert was Consort to Queen Victoria' he continued.

'Or Guinevere to King Arthur' Dawn suggested, using pure willpower not to burst out laughing.

Wesley frowned. Gunn had mentioned Guinevere in passing not ten minutes before and Stirling had been making random references to the Arthur legend for much of their time together on Pylea. Perhaps it was just a coincidence but his paranoia was starting to act up again. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Dawn and indicated he was going to sit down and eat now.

Dawn bade him farewell, she was going out with Connor in a minute anyhow. As he reached the table she noted the place they saved him was at the head of the table and that to her slight surprise every single one of the girls immediately stopped their laughing and joking and stood up when he arrived. They didn't resume their seats until he sat down and nor did they start talking or eating again until he asked one of the girls to pass the salt. It was a very long way from the informality that usually categorised things around here from Dawn's perspective, and she wondered how it was all going to pan out long term.

Making a mental note to get a copy of the video of Glory doing the Macarena burned to DVD for posterity Dawn went to look for her boyfriend. She only wished she could get a recording of Wesley's reaction when Giles explained the Deeper Well God-King prophecy to him and then gave him the bad news it was his job to tell Illyria in turn.

And they were _so_ getting him a tiara for his next birthday.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – April 2004**

'I still can't believe you actually did that' Kennedy declared, throwing her soiled jacket over a chair. 'You could have been killed for a stupid joke.'

'Oh come on it was worth it, admit it' Stephen replied. 'I couldn't go through life never having used that line' he stated, hanging his long-sword and scabbard up on a hook while he went to get himself a much deserved beer from the fridge, the two other girls who had been with them following behind seeking a soft drink for themselves, slaying could be thirsty work.

'What did he do?' Shannon asked. It was her night off from patrolling and her boyfriend was busy so she had spent it in front of the television watching old movies.

Kennedy shook her head sadly. 'Get this' she said. 'We run into some demon cult that likes swords.'

'An offshoot of the Cult of Balthazar' Stephen interrupted.

'Whatever' Kennedy continued, 'and get this they challenge the best of us to a fucking _duel_.'

'They're renowned for that behaviour, quite honourable in their own way' Stephen noted.

'So needless to say before I can tell them to kiss my ass and get busy with the staking the idiot here _accepts_' Kennedy told her.

'It seemed the thing to do' Stephen remarked, opening the bottle he got from the fridge and taking a swig.

Kennedy slumped down in a chair. 'So there we are, formed up in a big circle, slayers on one side, vampires on the other with D'Artagnon and one of their guys in the centre doing the whole duel to the death thing' she explains. 'They figure he's only a human so they only put up one of their rookies against him.'

'Hubris' Stephen declared. 'Everyone underestimates the guy with the pulse' he said. 'You should hear some of the stories Xander Harris has.'

'So Stephen won?' Shannon asked, he still _had _the pulse so he must have, she reasoned.

Kennedy nodded. 'Oh yeah but that's not the real kicker of the story' she said. 'So there they are fencing away, and I just keep getting this feeling that something's not right but I can't figure out what it was' she continued. 'Well after a couple of minutes the vamps getting the upper hand and he starts taunting.'

'More like a barbed complement' Stephen interjected. 'He said I was pretty good for a human but that wasn't good enough to take on a member of the Cult of Balthazar, he offered to turn me though, said if I had vampire reaction times I'd be a half decent swordsman.'

'Yeah' Kennedy agreed. 'That was it' she said, 'but then the Limey here starts laughing. So the vamp looks pissed off and says "what are you laughing about".'

'Which is when I tell him I'm not left handed' Stephen interrupted again and broke down laughing setting off the two slayers with him.

Shannon's jaw dropped. 'You _can't_ be serious?' she exclaimed.

Kennedy looked up at the ceiling. 'No he really said it' she replied. 'Sword-boy there tells them he's been fighting with his wrong hand, swaps and then starts hacking the vamp to pieces.'

'It was a once in a lifetime opportunity' Stephen declared, trying not to shake too hard from the laughing, he might spill his beer. 'I couldn't let it go' he said, 'it was worth it just for the expression on their faces when I switched hands.'

'Oh Jesus you should have seen them' one of the other girls agreed.

'You could have been killed' Kennedy pointed out.

'He never so much as scratched me' Stephen retorted. 'I wouldn't have clowned around if he'd been much better than he was.'

'I'm telling Giles' Kennedy told him. 'It was stupid.'

'It was still worth it' Stephen replied.

Kennedy frowned. 'I'm telling Emily' she said coldly.

Stephen flinched. 'Oh don't do that she'll kill me' he responded.

'You're supposed to help set an example' Kennedy told him. 'Can you imagine Giles doing something like that?'

Stephen thought about it. 'Probably not but I'll bet he sees the humour in it' he replied. 'Wesley on the other hand would have just pulled a pistol and shot the guy when he challenged him to a duel. He might share a name with the Dread Pirate Roberts true identity but he acts more like Indiana Jones.'

Kennedy groaned. 'You're spending too much time watching DVD's' she told him. 'We need to find you something else to do with your free time, it's not healthy.'

'You're not the boss of me' Stephen replied with a grin.

'So what happened next?' Shannon asked.

'After getting nicely cut up vamp gets decapitated and the rest of them, get this, pull their swords and give Stephen a goddamn _salute_' Kennedy told her. 'He returns it and tells them to get out of town.'

'They live by a code, they'll do it' Stephen told them. 'We couldn't fight them all without taking losses, it was the best outcome' he said. 'Besides which if we dusted them they wouldn't get a chance to warn the rest of the cult about the Dread Watcher Travers' he deadpanned.

'I really _am_ going to tell Emily' Kennedy told him.

Stephen shrugged he hadn't thought she was bluffing anyway. 'First time I've ever been in any way happy she's two thousand miles away' he responded. Then he realised she might cry and that was a lot worse than the idea she'd scream at him for being a bloody idiot. 'If I promise not to do it again would you _please_ not do that' he asked.

'Or anything _remotely_ as idiotic' Kennedy added.

'Oh come on that's like giving you carte blanche to determine what I'm allowed to do' Stephen complained.

'It's for your own good and as punishment for making _me_ the level-headed responsible one you…' Kennedy paused to think, 'you wanker' she continued hoping she got the connotation right.

'That was a bit harsh' he told her. 'Okay I'll be a good boy from now on' he agreed with a contrite expression which was slightly ruined by the hint of a smile.

'You'd better be' Kennedy told him seriously 'I don't want your death on my conscience' she stated. Kennedy didn't talk about it but she hadn't ever gotten over Chloe's suicide and hated the idea that anyone would ever die under her watch be it slayer or indeed a watcher.

'There's just one proviso' Stephen said.

'What?' Kennedy asked coldly.

'Admit it was a bloody great line and unbelievably funny when I did it' Stephen told her.

Kennedy sighed. 'Okay' she said. 'I admit it, it was hilarious, are you happy now?' she asked.

'I'm good' Stephen replied.

'Don't feel too pleased with yourself' Kennedy told him, 'it wasn't like it was original or anything.'

'Bet I'm the first person to do it in a real-life duel to the death though, you've _got_ to admire the poise surely' Stephen countered, throwing her one of his most winning smiles.

Kennedy shook her head sadly. 'You're _so_ lucky there's a watcher shortage' she told him. You just couldn't find good Limey help these days.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – April 2004**

Wesley sat there with his forehead on the table looking at the floor, he had been in the same position for quite a while. 'It's all right for you bastards' he said. '_You_ don't have to live with her, at least not like I do' he said, not changing position.

Buffy grinned. 'So how did she take it when you told her?' she asked. Looking across at Faith and Giles, the only other one present was Dawn who got to sit in by virtue of her work in translating the prophecy.

'She made a noise that might best be described as "squee" and did the Pylean Dance of Joy' Wesley replied. 'And no before you ask I'm _not_ making that shit up, she actually did' he told them. 'After that I had a smug, self-satisfied deity-girlfriend to put up with all afternoon and it was _painful_' he declared with a moan.

Giles tried to remain stoic and professional, as he had when telling Wesley earlier that day before the younger man went to tell Illyria in turn. 'So she reacted positively to the notion of being the once and future God-King then?' he asked deadpan.

Wesley looked up. 'She's currently surfing the internet trying to determine what colour she wants the coronation robes, her own shade of Blue or Imperial Purple.'

'Sounds like a big yes to me' Dawn suggested.

'To be honest there weren't many who thought she'd not welcome the news with some enthusiasm' Giles told him.

'Her only reservation concerns the title' Wesley remarked. 'She told me that given her current form, and the fact she plans to rule far beyond the limitations of this dimension, that she might abandon "God-King" for "Deus Imperatrix" instead.'

'God-Empress' Dawn and Giles translated simultaneously.

'Latin right?' Faith asked. 'Sounds classy anyway' she opined.

'Illyria thinks so' Wesley noted. 'She also thinks that she might go for a nice Greco-Roman architecture in her new capital' he said before resuming his previous position with his forehead resting on the conference table. 'You'll all be delighted to hear that she intends to rule as a Philosopher King rather in the manner of the ideal from Plato's Republic rather than a self-serving tyrant.'

'Magnanimous of her' Giles remarked wryly.

'She thought you'd all be pleased' Wesley responded sardonically. 'She might even allow power to be shared with an elected Senate as a sop to those who are inexplicably and illogically _unhappy_ with the concept of the human race being ruled by an immortal demon for the rest of eternity' he continued. 'Who knows, if she veers any further to the left she might end up _not_ regarding Atilla the Hun as a bleeding heart liberal.'

'Damn hippy barbarian hordes' Dawn joked.

'She's not expecting us all to swear fealty or anything is she?' Giles asked.

Wesley shook his head, or rather he rocked it from side to side on the table. 'No she's well aware you don't really see her as your Liege Lord, well not _yet_ at least' he answered. 'She's more than happy to play the waiting game, she's always thought we'd all see sense eventually and put her in charge, the prophecy just confirmed it to her way of thinking.'

'So no reborn thoughts of conquest' Buffy asked seriously, 'of this world I mean?'

'You don't need to be making plans to take a scythe to her since I assume that's what you're thinking' Wesley replied, looking up again. 'You might not always believe so but she's actually become far too fond of you all to consider a drastic short-term approach to her "not ruling the world like I should be" problem which would entail eliminating the major threat you would represent to such a scheme.'

Buffy smiled, it was strange but despite all the incredibly rude, condescending and obnoxious things she said you really did still somehow get the impression that underneath it all Illyria liked you, unless she actively _disliked_ you of course, in which case you were in seriously deep shit and living on borrowed time. 'Nice to know' she told Wesley.

'That isn't to say she wouldn't kill each and every one of you if she thought it was necessary but it would have to be a _very_ good reason and she'd feel bad about it afterwards' Wesley added.

'Well we wouldn't want her getting _too_ sentimental' Giles responded. 'I'd hate the other side to think she'd gone soft' he continued. 'Her mere existence as a constant presence in their collective psyches is enough to make most demons think twice about doing something untoward.'

Faith nodded. 'When I'm out in the field and rousting something nasty when it's with its friends I've been_ told_ the only reason they aren't trying to rip my throat out is that the word on the street says push the slayers too hard and they'll let the Old One off the leash' she said. 'Anything that has Wolfram and Hart looking over its shoulder is something none of them want to ever deal with. You can't buy a killer rep like that, you've got to earn it.'

'But what if the prophecy is true?' Buffy asked. 'Can you imagine a world with Illyria in charge.'

'Guessing that to be in the future at least we could be sure the magnetic levitation trains and passenger shuttles to the orbiting space hotels would run on time' Wesley joked.

'The question that might be asked instead is what are the circumstances in which the Council backed up by a couple of thousand slayer would _allow_ Illyria to rule?' Giles noted. 'She's not omnipotent, she couldn't defeat all of us, or all of our successors assuming the prophecy _does_ relate to some point in the distant future instead.'

Faith looked thoughtful. 'No offence B' she said, 'but if the shit really hit the fan and we got a full scale demon invasion, and I mean _millions_ of the fuckers I'd vote to put Blue in charge, maybe that's what happens?' she suggested.

Buffy frowned. 'I've thought about that myself' she admitted. 'If there was no other choice, better Blue than dead' Buffy told them. 'At least she seems to have some grasp that humanity is more than something to snack on.'

Giles nodded then chuckled. 'If it ever comes to that' he began, 'you might want to remember this is how it's done' he told her and stood up, arm initially across his chest then swung forward outstretched at chest height, hand open, palm face down in a Roman style salute. '_Ave. Ave, Illyria, Deus Imperatrix_' he intoned, trying to deliver the words in a sober manner.

'Hail. Hail, Illyria, God-Empress' Dawn translated.

'She'd love that' Wesley told Buffy. 'Seriously, she'd _love_ it' he continued. 'You might even get to see the Dance of Joy.'

Buffy hoped to hell she'd _never_ see that dance on several levels, it made the idea of watching Glory do the Macarena on the big Plasma Screen TV downstairs again sound downright appealing by comparison.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_Very sorry I'm only doing updates once a week at present. Work's a bitch at the moment and I can't write as well when I'm stressed so it takes longer to produce a chapter._

_Hopefully back to my old update pace soon though!_


	21. Chapter 21

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – May 2004**

From the top of the hill at the dividing line between the forest and the rolling hills that dominated the landscape from there on they watched the dust cloud being kicked up by a multitude of advancing feet heading towards them. The rough dirt tracks of Pylea were being badly abused judging from the size of the cloud not being up to that volume of pedestrian traffic, especially when so many of the feet were equipped with claws that tore at the earth with every step.

A sixteen year old girl turned her radio headset on and switched it to transmit. 'GOOD MORNING PYLEA' she yelled into it. 'We're gonna rock it from the Scumpits to the GNF' she continued.

'Knock that shit off' Denise told her sharply. 'We're supposed to be professionals and it's not like they get the goddamn reference anyway' she pointed out. 'Just tell them what's going on' she ordered.

The girl grimaced, she thought everyone would laugh not bite her head off. 'This is Patrol Slayer-Three to all Papa-Delta-Foxtrot units' she began again. 'Be advised there is a large enemy column advancing from the South. Recommend you do not engage until the first cohort fords the river and they're committed. Over' she signalled then turned the microphone back off. 'That better?' she asked trying not to meet the gaze of her Patrol Leader.

'Just don't do that again newbie, we clown around in camp not on the radio' Denise told her. 'Screwing around in the field gets people killed' she chided.

'Sorry' the girl apologised feeling suitably chastened, especially given that she was only trying to fit in and she'd just failed miserably at that.

Denise sighed over-dramatically and shook her head, dumb rookies she thought sadly and raised her binoculars. 'Oh we've really stirred up a hornets nest this time' she noted looking at the horde of demons advancing up the road.

'How many?' one of the other girls asked nervously.

'According to the Intel we got from Lorne's spy network they've sent in everything they had from the other side of the Chase River and I can believe it' she replied using the name for the geographical feature that Cordelia had put on all the maps. 'That's two full legions plus a good chunk of Narwek's Militia on the march.'

'Which is how many?' the girl asked again.

Denise lowered her binoculars and grinned at the girl. 'Better than ten thousand' she answered. 'I guess they mean business this time.'

The girl blinked. '_Ten_ _thousand_?' she repeated in horror.

'So with Vi's sniper team on the hill over there plus us that's about a nine-hundred each and even if we didn't miss once we're not carrying that much ammunition' Denise noted thoughtfully. 'I hope your sword arm is nice and rested' she deadpanned. 'Gonna be sore in the morning' she added, rotating her arm around as if to limber up.

'We can't fight _that_' one of the girls stated, pointing in the direction of the advancing demon army.

'You're perfectly correct young lady' Stirling agreed, finally making it up the hill thanks to his sword stick and the occasional assistance of the slayer carrying most of his personal equipment including his own rifle. 'We're here to observe and support the Pylean Defence Forces in their first major action' he continued. 'They've clearly made quite the psychological impact already because otherwise the enemy wouldn't be going to such lengths to stamp them out before they provoke the entire world into armed insurrection.'

Denise indicated a handy tree stump that the old watcher could sit down on and he did so gratefully before accepting her offer of her binoculars. 'Think the PDF boys can hold them Sir?' she asked.

Stirling took a better look at the advancing army. 'Have you ever heard of the Battle of Omdurman?' he asked, continuing to look through the lenses and not expecting for a second they actually would have. 'Fifty thousand native Sudanese fought against a British force a fraction of the size at the end of the Nineteenth Century, at one point the Sudanese launched a direct head-on attack of over ten thousand troops straight at the British lines in an attempt to overwhelm them.'

'What happened?' Denise asked.

'None of them got within fifty yards' Stirling replied evenly. 'Overall the casualty rates in terms of deaths for that battle were over two hundred to one in favour of the British' he continued. 'Spears against machine-guns is not a recipe for military success and even a spear has more range than a set of teeth' he noted.

Stirling changed the direction he was pointing his binoculars in and watched as the Pylean's prepared themselves for the onslaught down in the valley between the two hills where the slayers were positioned. The Groosalug had been itching for a stand-up fight instead of the small scale raids they had been running until now and he was going to get his hearts desire today the old watcher decided.

They had a respectable number in the field down there, nearly four hundred fully trained plus another hundred of so partially trained in reserve so they were outnumbered just over twenty to one. The PDF volunteers were around fifty percent human in number and the rest was made up of various native demon clans with the Deathwok in the preponderance. The latter had proven to make surprisingly good soldiers once Ashton persuaded them to dump a few traditional chivalric values in favour of Earth style military professionalism, ruthlessness and human patented sneakiness. The red-horned demons empathically enhanced hunting skills made them expert scouts and trackers and they were typically stronger and more resilient than humans too.

Twenty to one, Stirling considered, watching a mixed group of humans and demons in identical camouflage clothing building a barricade, their rifles leaning against a small tree nearby. 'Well at least we can say that whatever happens we have got the Maxim-gun and they've not' he noted. 'Or the AK-47 at least' he added with a chuckle.

'Sorry Sir?' Denise asked.

'Line from Kipling' Stirling told her. 'English poet' he explained. 'The Maxim Gun was the type of machine-gun used at Omdurman, in many ways it epitomised the latter days of the Empire' he continued. 'You can apply quite a lot of Kipling's verse work to our current situation, especially if you change the odd word' he said then took a deep breath.

'_When you're wounded and left on Pyleas dread plains, _

_And the demons come out to cut up what remains, _

_just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains, _

_and go to your God like a slayer_.'

Denise chuckled. 'Sound advice' she agreed. 'Any others?' she asked.

'Oh masses my dear' Stirling replied, 'but I think you'll appreciate this one "the female of the species is more deadly than the male".'

'Well that's just stating the obvious' Denise replied wryly. 'Whose turn is it to fire the mortar?' she asked looking around as one of the girls raised her hand. 'Just don't shell Vi's team or the PDF by accident, they'll be pissed about it if you do and Vi gets pretty cranky if she's receiving incoming friendly fire.'

'I'll make a note' the girl replied with a grin and pretended to write words on an imaginary pad. 'Do… not… blow… up… chief… gunslayer' she said in time as she did so.

'Where's Jay and Silent Bob?' one of the other girls asked, the nickname for the two mercenaries had stuck and spread to the new girls as well.

'Perković is over there with Vi and Ashton is down in the valley keeping an eye on the locals' Denise replied. 'That's another good reason not to accidentally mortar the Pyleans because if he lives he'll shoot you on basic principle.'

Stirling stood up and stretched out his legs before he got too comfortable in his improvised rustic chair. 'Having been on the wrong end of my own sides high-explosive attentions on more that one occasion myself I can readily empathise' he said. 'In late '44 some American prat in a fighter-bomber strafed my company three times until we gave up trying to signal him and started shooting back to get him to go away' he told them. 'Another time the blessed Royal Artillery nearly blew me to bits when they shelled the wrong coordinates' he said. 'Strangely enough it's not so bad when it's the _enemy_ trying to kill you, you can accept it more readily as an occupational hazard, having your _own_ people do it however is simply infuriating, you feel like tracking them down after the war and throttling them.'

Denise laughed. 'Did you?' she asked.

'No but in the unlikely event I ran into them now, assuming they aren't dead of old age, I might club them over the head with my stick' he said holding it up with a smile. 'I might look like an old codger, but upstairs I'm still the livid twenty-year old laying in a muddy ditch getting machine-gunned by some dozy berk in a US Army Airforce Thunderbolt' he continued. 'I might absent-mindedly forget where I put my blasted reading glasses these days but _some_ memories will stick with you the rest of your life in vivid detail trust me' the old watcher told them. 'In fact I can feel my blood pressure rising now thinking about it.'

A few of the girls laughed. The old man could be quite formal sometimes, but he was better out in the field and he told some great stories.

'Some of those demons are very large' another said in a Dutch accent looking through the telescopic sight on her rifle. 'Four metres tall at least, some close to five' she added.

'Good thing we gave the Pyleans all those bally Russian RPG's then' Stirling replied wryly. 'Let's see how scary those demons are when they're looking down their ugly noses at a rocket launcher.'

'They say Buffy once blew up some kind of big bad super demon with a rocket launcher' Denise noted. 'It's tried and tested at least.'

'Definitely come a long way from sharpened sticks in the last few years' Stirling observed.

'Nostalgic for the old days?' Denise asked.

'Don't be daft' Stirling replied. 'We should have been doing things this way for years' he stated, shaking his head sadly. 'Council was always too full of reactionary fossils to grasp the need to radically rethink our methods' he said. 'I was shooting vampires in the face with my trusty service revolver, or riddling them with holes from a Sten sub-machinegun then staking them when they were too hurt to fight back properly way back in the Nineteen-Fifties but they still insisted on viewing anything more advanced than a crossbow as being against tradition.'

'They'll be in mortar range in a couple of minutes' one of the girls noted. 'Are we going to say hello?' she asked with a vicious smirk.

'We'll wait until there's a big concentrated mass of them and they're already taking fire from the Pyleans' Denise replied. 'Make every round really count.'

'There you see' the old watcher responded. '_That's_ how it's supposed to be done' he concurred. 'Give the buggers an object lesson in why they should be wary of humanity, they might be evil but after ten thousand years of trying to kill each other in wars we've become quite adept at the process and we've got the tools to match' he continued looking down into the valley. 'Well having reworded Kipling today why not Tennyson' he said then took another deep breath.

'_Mortars to right of them,_

_Snipers to left of them,_

_AK's in front of them_

_Volley'd and thunder'd;_

_Storm'd at with shot and shell,_

_Boldly they marched and well,_

_Into the jaws of Death,_

_Into the mouth of Hell_

_Marched the Ten Thousand_'

Denise turned to make sure the mortar _was_ being properly set up as the old man spoke. 'So if the mouth of hell is of our making then maybe _we're_ the big bads?' she wondered.

'I'd wager a months pay that _they're_ certainly starting to think so' Stirling replied, indicating the slowly advancing demon army. 'Theirs is not to reason why, theirs is but to do and die.'

Denise considered the old mans words. 'Cool' she said.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – May 2004**

Giles tapped his pen against a glass of water in front on him on the Conference Table to get everyone's attention. When that failed miserably he picked up a thick leather bound book next to the glass and dropped it back onto the table with a loud thump which _did_ get everyone to stop talking. 'Thank you' he said sardonically. 'Now if we can get started I think Illyria for one would like this to be a short meeting' he said, receiving a nod of thanks for his recognition of her dislike of staying still in a room too long from the Old One herself. She was already starting to feel them closing in and although she fought against it eventually her claustrophobia always seemed to win out over her willpower.

'We can open the door if that would help?' Buffy offered realising what Giles had meant by that. In some ways the God-Kings phobia was one of her more endearing traits in Buffy's eyes it made her seem far more human although she doubted Illyria would view that as a plus.

'I am fine for now' Illyria replied. She did not appreciate her embarrassing psychological weakness being discussed even if she was certain that the slayer only meant well by the offer. 'Your concern is noted… and appreciated' she added gaining a look of approval from Wesley sat next to her.

Faith grinned. 'She's getting polite these days' the slayer opined. 'I guess Guinevere is rubbing off on you with the Limey manners' she continued. 'You getting Blue skin patches yourself Wes, two-way street kind thing?' she asked with a chuckle,

'My Wesley does _not_ appreciate that puerile nickname, desist from using it or I may give you blue patches of your own' Illyria responded menacingly, 'along with various contusions to accompany the bruising' she added.

'Okay now _there's_ the girl we all know, love and occasionally lay awake at night worrying about' Faith replied. 'Okay I'll behave now' she told Buffy who was directing a look of reproach in her direction.

Giles pushed his glasses up his nose, they had slid down them slightly as he reviewed his notes, and he pointed at the first item written on the agenda. 'Firstly might I say how nice it is to have Wesley at these monthly meetings again after his time spent on Pylea' he began 'and also to formally thank him for his work there.'

'Thank you Rupert, it's nice to be home, or at least as home as Los Angeles qualifies' Wesley replied. 'I was also very happy to see that the world had not fallen to rack and ruin in my absence, except that is for the mystery of where my Dart Board went' he continued, looking from Giles to Spike, it had to be one of them he decided, the colonials were highly unlikely to have taken it.

'I'll bring it back' Spike told the watcher. 'I just got this hankering for a game and I knew you had one.'

'Never big on other people's property rights were you Spike' Angel told him with a smirk.

'Which of us shagged the other ones woman?' Spike retorted. 'Giving Drusilla one is a bloody sight worse than borrowing this scruffy sods dartboard' he declared.

'You slept with Drusilla' Buffy exclaimed looking at Angel in horror, 'Drusilla is your girlfriend?' she continued, looking at Spike.

'This was over a hundred years ago' Spike told her. 'Don't get your knickers in a twist love.'

'Ancient History' Angel said.

'No statute of limitations on pinching another blokes piece of skirt' Spike responded. 'Once a wanker, always a wanker' he declared.

'Do you wish the two of them rendered unconscious?' Illyria asked Buffy seriously.

Buffy weighed up the offer. 'If they don't stop squabbling right now yes' she replied.

Spike and Angel together looked at Buffy and then at Illyria who was now wearing her patented "I'm going to get to hurt something" smile. They both immediately went silent and tried to look inoffensive which resulted in Illyria pouting instead.

'Moving on' Giles said ignoring them all, 'Xander's latest report from the Shadow Valley project shows it to be ahead of schedule' he said. 'Much of the existing underground network of tunnels and caverns has been reinforced and is being expanded into the desired bunker complex which we will construct both the Academy and the Headquarters facilities on top of' he told them. 'In addition the digging of the large canal, or should I say moat, that will surround the entire facility also continues apace.'

'I still think we should have gone for the minefield' Wesley opined.

'We agreed to the hidden pill-boxes with the anti-tank guns and the Surface-to-Air Missile battery didn't we?' Buffy asked, rolling her eyes.

'I suppose' Wesley replied reluctantly.

Giles sighed. 'On the subject of weaponry Anya has completed her analysis of the proposal to establish our own manufacturing capabilities and the obvious conclusion is establish a small armaments and munitions factory in the Peoples Republic of China where production costs are lower than in the West and we wouldn't have to worry so much about legal action resulting from patent violations' he told them.

Buffy crossed her arms. 'Even if we pay the workers well above the going rate for staff there and give decent benefits we will still be financially better off to the tune of over fifteen million dollars a year' she told them, 'plus we get to make anything we want with limited interference from the Chinese Government as long as we pay our taxes and bribe the right officials' she said. 'We've already got a few Chinese slayers who can help run the operation and use it as a base of operations for the country so it's a good choice from that perspective too.'

'Our dubious friend Emil the arms dealer has put us in touch with various unscrupulous individuals he has contact with within the PRC and we should be able to get the enterprise off the ground and supplying our armaments needs before the end of the year' Giles told them.

'Surprised Emil would give up our custom that way' Wesley responded with surprise. 'If we can manufacture much of our own weaponry he loses a paying customer.'

'Yes but he's gaining a _supplier_ that gives him a discount' Giles responded. 'As long as he only sells our excess production to his legitimate customers we'll be selling arms to _him_ for once and he has agreed the terms, apparently there are plenty of opportunities to make good money off _legal_ arms sales at the moment.'

'I would imagine that the situation in the Middle-East is driving up the costs of ammunition purchases at the very least' Wesley theorised. 'Well if we're going to be in a position to make our own equipment there are plenty of things I can think of.'

'Such as?' Giles asked, making notes.

'Well for a start we might want to consider re-chambering our standard issue rifles from 5.56mm to the new 6.5mm Grendel round' Wesley told him. 'It hits much harder, with a third again as much muzzle energy and it has better ballistic qualities so at long range, say over five hundred yards its superiority is even greater than that.'

'Grendel?' Giles queried with a wry smile.

'Yes there is that too' Wesley admitted.

'Okay what don't I know here?' Faith asked looking from one watcher to another.

'Grendel was the name of the monster Beowulf defeated in the poem named for him' Spike told her. 'First great work of Anglo-Saxon literature, borrowed heavily from pagan tradition but with a Christian spin on things' he explained then began to recite a passage.

'_Wise sir, do not grieve. It is always better_

_to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning._

_For every one of us, living in this world_

_means waiting for our end. Let whoever can_

_win glory before death. When a warrior is gone,_

_that will be his best and only bulwark_.'

'Great so now I've got the vampire flaunting his education in front of me too' Faith complained. 'But I kinda like the words' she told Spike.

Buffy smiled at the blond vampire, he really put passion and feeling into reciting poetry and did it very well. He smiled back feeling pleased with himself, maybe he really should write her that epic love poem he had threatened her with before.

'6.5 millimetre Grendel' Wesley said again. 'Using one monster to slay others has a definite appeal to my way of thinking' he continued with a smile of his own. 'We should be able to modify our G36K carbines to fire it without too much trouble, they've done it before with other rifles originally designed for the same ammunition we're using now.'

'I'll let you run with that' Buffy told him. Say what you like about him the guy really knew his guns. 'So how are we getting on with the preparations for Berith's arrival?' she asked Giles.

'We're preparing for the worst' Giles told her. 'Kennedy and Stephen have arranged accommodation for the additional personnel we're sending to Cleveland next week and we should have another two scythes ready by then.'

Wesley crossed his arms. 'I'm sure that someone has already raised this point but are we sure that scythes will be effective?' he asked.

Faith looked at him askance. 'I've kicked some Demon ass with mine and even your girlfriend is scared of them, what more do we need to know?'

'Well for a start has anyone considered the fact that we know Baal Berith can turn base metals into gold and that the scythes are in fact made of metal?' he asked.

Giles felt his jaw drop open. 'Oh bloody hell' he swore.

'So it _hadn't_ occurred to any of you then' Wesley responded smugly. 'Pure gold is fairly soft you know' he pointed out. 'Not going to keep its edge very well' he noted.

'Maybe all the enchantments and shit will mean he can't do it to the scythes?' Faith remarked.

'Certainly a possibility but better safe than sorry' Wesley responded.

'Ceramics' Giles said randomly.

'I'm not hungry' Illyria told him. Crockery wasn't as nice as a good Taco or Burrito but it made a decent snack even if eating Wesley's Cup that time had been a major mistake she was still paying for.

Giles rolled his eyes. 'No I mean Emily has a knife made of ceramics so it doesn't trigger the metal detector they have at her school' he told them. 'Maybe something like that?' he suggested.

'Ceramics are made from clay which is a mixture of materials which _does_ include metals if only in the form of various compounds with silicate hydroxides' Illyria responded. 'Fred's memories' she explained when everyone looked at her.

'Kevlar and carbon fibre' Wesley said. 'No metal in that stuff' he said. 'It should be tough enough to deal out some punishment especially if we throw some magic into the mix.'

Buffy grimaced. 'Any prizes for guessing Medousa's reaction when we tell her we need her to power up a _plastic_ scythe?' she asked.

'Let me tell her' Giles said quickly. 'Oh for the love of God please let _me_ tell her' he begged.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This fanfic runs on reviews._

_...okay so I was feeling poetical, please don't think too badly of me I don't do it very often do I:-p_


	22. Chapter 22

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

_WARNING - THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 8 COMICS - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!_

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – May 2004**

The advance had started out in good order, the demons in formation and well organised. When properly led Sebassis Troops were not rabble by any means, indeed by demon standards they were practically disciplined, this of course being the reason that as soon as they got into range Vi's sniper team started blowing holes in their officers, unruly leaderless mobs may seem more ferocious but they lack the ability to properly react to changing circumstances and more than that they'll be more likely to break and run when properly motivated.

Groosalug the Undefeated strode along the line, the enemy would soon be upon them but until they were he would continue to make his way from bunker to bunker, trench to stockade to make sure his own troops were in high spirits and prepared for glorious and bloody battle. Coming to a familiar face, though one wearing an unusually determined expression the Pylean Champion squatted down beside a dug-out and raised a clenched fist to greet the occupant as warrior to warrior. 'Numfar you are well met' he said, greeting the brother of his friend Lorne. 'As are you all' he added for the benefit of the three others in the hastily constructed fortification.

One of the dug-out occupants was a human and although of Pylean birth he returned the Groosalugs greeting with a salute in the style of the armies of Earth. 'Good day for a fight Sir' the human declared looking up at the clear sky.

'Better than if it was raining my brother' the Groosalug replied in agreement. 'Untold hordes of enemies fill me with little dread, and offers the opportunity for glory everlasting on victory, but standing around in wet clothes with water dripping down the back of my neck takes all the joy out of it' he told them with a sigh then stood back up. 'They will soon be within range of our rifles' he said. 'Mark your targets well and keep a steady hand and a stout heart and we will vanquish our foe this day' he declared then raised his voice so that it echoed along the line. 'We stand together, demon clans and human but we are Pyleans all' he boomed. 'The invader came to take our lands and make us chattels to foreign masters, but today we will show them that the price in blood to take our freedom is higher than they would ever choose to pay.'

The Groosalug watched as the demon army of Sebassis and the allied traitors of his lapdog Narwek continued to surge up the valley closing on the defenders. Few on the line would have ever seen a fraction so many beings at one time before, only the very largest cities on Pylea could boast more than a few thousand inhabitants. 'And if any of you can manage to miss hitting _something_ out there we will be having harsh words this evening' he declared loudly, sparking laughter amongst the defenders.

They had measured out the effective range for the rifles and marked it with white painted stones some three hundred yards out as soon as the enemy crossed that point hundreds of Kalashnikov Rifles in the hands of Pylean volunteers would begin to rip into them. The rifle lacked the range of the more precision built rifles the slayers carried but it had a more powerful cartridge and was far better suited to being handled by members of a pre-industrial society which did not necessarily treat mechanical devices with the respect or care they might deserve.

Before they faced the PDF rifles they would have to contend with something much nastier however.

Half way along the line Douglas Ashton told the Pyleans with him to clear the firing line and they responded by seizing hold of the large bushes that had been placed there to conceal the position and throwing them aside.

The mercenary stuffed hearing protectors in his ears and then pulled back the oversized cocking handle on the heavy machinegun in front of him. It was the one Illyria had taken from the Armoured Personnel Carrier Glory had wrecked and now mounted on an improvised heavy tripod made by a local blacksmith it was finally going to get some use, though not against the intended side it had been transported to Pylea to do so.

The Russian made KPV heavy machinegun fired an oversized 14.5 millimetre cartridge which had nearly twice the muzzle energy as its much vaunted American .50 Calibre equivalent. Originally designed for Anti-Tank Rifles it could easily penetrate an inch of armoured plate at a distance of half a kilometre, or as it happens at the same range it would tear a gaping wound in one demon, keep going through the next and continue ploughing its way forward until eventually running out of steam several demons later on leaving an impressive hole in each of them en-route.

Holding his jaw clenched shut because otherwise the jarring recoil would have caused him to bite his tongue or shaken his teeth loose in his head Ashton held down the firing lever and swept the heavy machinegun in an arc across the valley. The weapon thundered and tore its way through the demon ranks for a few glorious seconds until the forty round belt of ammunition ran dry, quickly exhausted by the long continuous burst.

As another Pylean dashed in to load the next belt Ashton paused to appreciate the carnage he had just caused, knocking hundreds of demons out of the fight almost at once. The PDF troops were already cheering, or in some cases doing some wildly gyrating silent dance moves as the next belt was loaded and after giving the loader time to get clear Ashton pulled back the cocking handle again and started firing once more, this time in a series of short bursts into the still advancing horde, slowing sweeping the barrel of the heavy machinegun across the enemy lines.

After another forty rounds the machinegun fell silent once again. They only had a few belts of ammunition, not enough to do more than give the demons a very unpleasant hello but a familiar 'crump' noise told the mercenary that there was even nastier ordinance about to fall upon the opposition as the girls up on the hill there started up with the mortar fire.

Airburst shrapnel, white phosphorus and the occasion cluster fire-spell round began falling onto the enemy, like the heavy machinegun it wasn't enough to stop them but it broke up the formation and helped reduce discipline and order even more as demons fell, bled, screamed and burned and were them trampled underfoot by those following behind.

They were nearly at the row of white painted stones when Ashton fired off his third ammunition belt in one go straight into the heart of the demon column then reached for his own rifle saving the rest of the 14.5mm in case it was needed to break a sudden enemy surge towards the line later on.

Four hundred Pyleans, both human and demon, chambered a round in their AK-47's, bought their rifles to their shoulders and took aim as the thousands of snarling beasts finally got close enough to warrant shooting at them. Boxes full of loaded magazines rested beside them as they looked down their gunsights, steadied their aim and waited for the order to fire.

Kneeling behind a log stockade the Groosalug raised his own rifle and pulled back the cocking lever. He much preferred to employ a true warriors weapon such as sword or battleaxe but he knew he needed to set an example to the others and show that it was not a betrayal of their culture to utilise the weapons of the Earth humans, the true betrayal would be to _not_ use them and allow their people to continue to live as slaves, if they fought in the old manner they could not hope to match the forces of the Wolf, Ram and Hart.

Of all the sentient races across the dimensional divide only the humans with their methodical, systematic and technological approach to war had truly raised it from a warriors art to a soldiers science and it was this shift on emphasis from the individual to the group as a whole that was almost as telling in the field as their hideously effective weaponry. The mercenary Ashton had repeatedly drummed it into the heads of the recruits that war was not a game, or some kind of heroic sport played by so-called "Champions", it was pure bloody industrial scale murder and the objective was to destroy both the enemies will and means to fight.

The Groosalug took aim and considered the weapon and the people that had made it. As individuals the humans were nothing special, they were weaker than nearly all demon races, they were slower than most, lacked sharp teeth or claws and they could be cowardly, deceitful, treacherous and self-serving so it was little wonder they were often so despised. As a _group_ however they were the most dangerous, vicious, cunning and inventive race imaginable, it took years to master a sword but within weeks you could take someone with no prior knowledge of even the existence of firearms, give them such a device as this Kalashnikov and they could easily defeat the greatest swordsman that ever lived. Arm a few hundred with these weapons and they could meet a mighty foe that outnumbered them twenty to one and laugh at the odds. It was terrible to contemplate that anyone could wield such power without having to truly earn it.

The first rank of demons crossed the line of white painted stones. 'Open fire' the Groosalug bellowed at the top of his lungs and squeezed the trigger on his rifle. As the valley thundered to the sound of five hundred rifles he wondered where it was all going to end.

To the first rank of demons in the oncoming army it ended a split second later in a storm of supersonic copper jacketed lead.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – May 2004**

Willow looked out of the window down to the street below, it looked so normal out their she thought before turning back to face into her room where Buffy sat on the edge of her bed and Illyria as usual preferred to stand wearing her armour. 'Amy Madison' she repeated eventually in disbelief, it had taken her a while to get to grips with the notion. 'You want to recruit _Amy Madison_?' she asked incredulously 'She's - - she's an evil _bitch_' she stated with a quite un-Willow-like hiss of venom in her voice.

Illyria crossed her arms. 'It would be more accurate to say that she is petty, vengeful and under the influence of her addiction to dark magicks than she is evil in the classic sense' the God-king replied, 'though she _does_ harbour an almost irrational hatred of you in particular.'

'There's got to be better choices surely?' Buffy argued.

'Amy Madison is amongst the most powerful non-aligned mages to be found in this world, although not I fear as strong at this point as she was in the original timeline' Illyria responded, 'her hatred and entrapment fuelled her mystical energies and even prompted her to initiate a scheme of revenge against you all in league with elements of your government.'

'She _what_?' Willow exclaimed.

'Do not be concerned, I made sure to warn her of the impending collapse of the Hellmouth and she fled changing the timeline irrevocably for her from that point' Illyria told her. 'It is also likely she lacks either the mystical strength or motivation to formulate her ludicrous frankly transparent ruse that you all seemed to fall for despite the fact it made no logical sense at all' she added rolling her eyes. She never had been able to get Buffy and Willow in the original timeline to grasp that the whole business with Warren Mears was just 'bollocks' as Spike would say. They persisted in not accepting that it was a simple fabrication by the Madison girl, who had already proven herself powerful enough before to play tricks on even Willows mind. Amy's magicks had zero effect on Illyria and she could see right through it all but they just _wouldn't_ accept the truth no matter how many times she laid it all out in simple terms. For a while there before coming back in time the God-King had an insight into what it must have been like for the blond half-breed when only he could see through Glory's memory spell that made everyone but him instantly forget that she and Ben were the same person, frankly it sucked worse than a portal into the most quicksand infested area of the Quartoth.

'What _about_ the government?' Buffy asked. 'Where do _they_ come into all of this?' she demanded to know.

'They don't' Illyria replied, 'not anymore, at least not as they did before' she told them. 'By now they will already be involved in serious inter-factional disputes with elements seeing us as either a useful ally or a far too dangerous threat to confront directly, severely weakening the hand of those who would otherwise move against us' she maintained. 'Both my demonstration with the Fort Knox reserves and my offer to act in their interests in the geopolitical sphere will have hamstrung General Voll and his command.'

Buffy opened her mouth to ask who the hell "General Voll" was, he sounded like a evil villain from a Sci-Fi B movie, but decided that if Illyria wasn't going to say there was no point in asking. 'Okay so let's get back to the subject of Amy, why do you want us to go get her?'

'She has useful skills and would be an asset' Illyria replied simply. 'We are lacking in effective magic users and she is the most powerful I know of that we can readily add to our personnel.'

Willow breathed out slowly, getting upset about it wouldn't impress Illyria one bit, in fact it would guarantee that the God-King would decide she was only objecting on irrational emotional grounds. 'What makes you think she'd cooperate?' she asked in a calm, considered tone of voice.

Illyria smirked. 'What makes you think she need do more than be merely obedient?' she countered. 'I was not planning to give her a say in the matter, she either serves the cause willingly or I will find a twin to the collar I make Glory wear, place it around Amy's neck and make her serve regardless.'

'Dammit Illyria you can't go around enslaving people' Buffy exclaimed. 'It's not' she paused for a second, '… legal' she said eventually.

'A great statesman and orator called Cicero once said that "Laws are silent in times of war", and we _are_ at war' Illyria responded flatly. 'If you wish to salve your conscience by choosing to call it "conscription" instead of slavery you may do so, but regardless of whether she wears a collar or dog-tags around her neck Amy is both too valuable a potential ally, and too dangerous a potential foe to allow her free reign outside our control' she continued. 'We either draft her or we arrange her demise, either one would be unpleasant for you both to contemplate I am sure, but at least the former both benefits us and perhaps offers her the chance for redemption.'

Willow closed her eyes she could feel a headache approaching and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. 'Are you saying if I don't help you capture Amy you'll kill her?' she asked. 'Because I'm betting us saying we wouldn't, or shouldn't, won't stop you going it alone.'

'Yes' Illyria replied simply. 'I assume that you collectively are unlikely to take a scythe to me if I try and that would be the only way you could prevent it.'

Buffy glared at the God-King. 'What give you the right to do whatever the hell you want?'

'Might' Illyria replied honestly. 'And I _am_ right in any case' she added. 'There is no fundamental reason to excessively mistreat Amy once under our control, merely to restrict her freedom to some extent unless chastisement or some mental conditioning proves necessary.'

'Oh so _now_ we're going to brainwash her' Willow responded. 'Aversion therapy a la Clockwork Orange maybe?' she asked sarcastically.

'It would be better not to do so' Illyria replied. 'Whilst having her more docile may be beneficial in some cases it would likely strip her of her "edge" and make her a less effective warrior mage overall, better a caged tiger than a free but tame kitten.'

'No feelings at all' Willow muttered under her breath.

'More than I would care to have' Illyria replied honestly, having excellent hearing. 'For one thing it would be liberating _not_ to care that you as my friends thought ill of me but I _do_ despite my best efforts to remain indifferent' she told them. 'My logic is undeniable and from the broader perspective my recommendation _is_ the moral choice' she continued. 'Fighting under our banner Amy could save countless lives and provide incalculable help in the campaign against our enemies.'

'And I suppose that _I_ have to keep her in check' Willow asked coldly.

'As I do Glory and Dana increasingly seems to for Drusilla' the God-King replied. 'In each case we are simply the best people for the job' she argued. 'For that matter Buffy is perhaps the anchor for Faith as well.'

Buffy leaned back. 'I've got to ask' she began, 'but is it your intention to conscript every single miscellaneous bad guy you can think of and create the supernatural Dirty Dozen?' she asked sardonically.

'Only the controllable ones' Illyria replied. 'Thinking of which Knox mentioned that we had a reply to our email offering protection from Wolfram and Hart to any employee that wished to leave but had not done so for fear of retaliation from the company.'

Buffy couldn't help but laugh. 'I thought that was just us trying to yank Lilah's chain' she replied. 'We sent it to every single employee they had with an email account' she explained to Willow who hadn't heard about it before. 'Hey if anyone wants out of that place we'll keep their former employer off their back' she said.

Illyria smiled. 'I am gratified to hear it, although vacuous and annoying we are short of administrative staff and Harmony was a surprisingly effective Assistant to Angel during his time at Wolfram and Hart.'

Buffy blinked. 'Harmony?' she repeated. 'Harmony "I'm a vampire _without_ a soul" Kendall?' she queried, 'the Harmony that kidnapped my sister and was sleeping with my boyf… with Spike?'

'Yes' Illyria replied. 'She apparently mentioned in her email a great desire to spend time with all her old friends from Sunnydale' she explained. 'I think that was part of the reason for wishing to leave her current job, plus of course the Hyperion is now fitted with necro-tempered Glass and we can offer an excellent dental plan.'

'This is a joke right?' Buffy asked hopefully.

Illyria shook her head. 'She types like a superhero' she told the slayer, 'and did prove willing to give up the consumption of human blood before.'

Willow's eyes widened as something occurred to her. 'Cordelia, Buffy and now Amy and Harmony' she said. 'It's the reunion of the old Sunnydale High Cheerleading Squad' she declared. 'Hey maybe you could get Faith to join in to fill in for one of the missing members that got eaten?' she suggested sardonically.

'Somehow I just don't see Faith as the cheerleading type' Buffy told her with a shrug.

**Great Northern Forest – Pylea – May 2004**

Even firing only semi-automatic and roughly aiming each shot the Pylean riflemen still managed to empty their first magazines in less than half a minute. Such was the size of their target, a mass of demons hundreds deep it seemed almost impossible not to hit something worthwhile with every shot, although quite a few managed rto do so shooting too low so that their bullets ploughed into the ground in front of the enemy or else too high whizzing over the tops of their heads. However given that in those first thirty seconds or so the five hundred Pyleans, the reserves having been bought into play already, fired off fifteen thousand rounds between them they still succeeded in wreaking absolute carnage.

Demons are built tougher than humans and a single round will only rarely bring one down especially given that many were wearing plate armour that could often stop a rifle bullet at that range but the demons in the first few ranks were riddled with holes and they started falling in waves as the Pyleans poured fire at them. As the first ranks fell so they not only stopped soaking up rounds that now started to hit their compatriots behind but they also became an obstacle that tripped others up and slowed down the advance which had become a charge as they closed with the Pylean line.

Vi watched in amazement as the demons almost seemed to hit a solid wall of rifle fire like waves crashing against the rocks, somehow, either out of courage or sheer stupidity they kept going, lacking leadership to order them to stop the apparently suicidal charge and some of them were closer than two hundred yards to the Pyleans when the first of the defenders reloaded and began firing off their second magazines even faster than the first as the targets became closer and it took less time to aim. The firing rate rose and rose as enraged demons clawed their way over or through the corpses and writhing wounded bodies of their own getting closer and closer all the time as more and more of them fell beneath the blazing guns.

'Jesus Christ' one of the other slayers exclaimed.

'I do not think so' Perković commented, his ever present crucifix hanging around his neck along with his dog-tags, both those of the Legion and the Croatian Army. They had all stopped sniping the moment the main fighting began down in the valley, all that is except Rika who was still taking out any unfortunate demon that entered the crosshairs on her telescopic sight.

'They've got to break and run' Vi declared. 'They've got to' she said wondering if she was right as the demons continued to close on the Pyleans, dropping like flies as the rate of firing continued to rise to a crescendo the locals starting to fire almost blindly into the mob, proper aiming becoming little more than optional if you wanted to perforate something.

At a hundred yards even demons wearing plate armour were utterly unprotected against the supersonic projectiles that punched right through the steel, the demon within it and sometimes even back out the other side to strike another. They fell like wheat before the scythe but they kept coming.

Ashton dropped his rifle and got back behind the heavy machinegun firing off the belt in one go sweeping the barrel from left to right in an arc, the heavy rounds barely noticing the demons they passed through at this range but they _kept_ coming.

'ROCK AND ROLL' the mercenary screamed as the machine-gun ran dry and he snatched up his rifle again. The Pyleans within earshot, their own hearts pounding as fast as the rifles in either chests or backsides switched their AK-47's over from semi-automatic to fully automatic gripped the rifles as hard as they could and depressed the triggers once again.

Even full magazines emptied themselves in three seconds flat as the PDF troops opened up with everything they had, more and more of them switching their rifles over to its maximum rate of fire as the enemy seemed to be getting close enough to reach out and touch.

Even at close, almost point-blank range, the numbers of rounds missing completely escalated as rifles jumped around almost controllably under the gyrating recoil but the volume of fire had risen so much higher that the number of bullets hitting demons still rose exponentially.

The Groosalug gritted his teeth and burned off yet another thirty rounds, ejecting the empty clip to join the growing pile of pressed steel magazines lying by his feet before hastily reloading. This was slaughter, unadulterated butchery pure and simple, no honour, no glory just killing he thought. It was barely more than murder he decided as he began to fire again.

Under the withering, unceasing fire, between them all now thousands of rounds every _second_ the demons could not advance, they were being gunned down faster than the ones further back could replace them, the gap between the Pyleans and the invaders began to widen despite the greatest efforts of their foe to press forward.

An instant later Sebassis Troops began to break and run, firstly in small groups but then as a mass, the rump survivors of what had been a colossal army the likes of which Pylea had never before seen concentrated in one place simply fled, completely broken in spirit as they ran for their lives over a carpet of their own.

Over eight thousand demons lay bleeding, dead or dying on the fields of Pylea, and somewhere close to ninety-five thousand spent brass bullet casings littered the ground before them.

Douglas Ashton looked around, blood of all conceivable colours from a dozen different demon species flowed together and ran like a river towards the lower ground, the sounds of screaming and groaning wounded replaced the cacophony of firing, the smell of white phosphorus and gunfire filled the lungs and for the first time the hell dimension of Pylea was really living up to its name, it was a scene from the mind of Dante or the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch.

The mercenary grimaced as he reached for his radio. 'I'm not helping to bury this lot' he declared. 'I vote we leave them here for the vultures and see if the brewery in that little town three klicks to the East makes anything worth drinking' he suggested.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_Joss retconned with all his Amy/Warren stuff in the Season 8 comics so I've damn well retconned it back again so that it actually makes sense with the whole thing being a collosal trick by Amy not actual reality... the difference between us is that I've apparently got more respect for canon and basic logic :-p_

_That was the last of the big set-piece battles in Pylea for now, they'll be more concentration on the situation back on Earth for a while so anyone that doesn't enjoy huge bloody gunfights can breathe a sigh of relief ;-)_

_And finally as ever this fanfic runs on reviews._


	23. Chapter 23

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – May 2004**

Stephen completed his lecture and stood aside letting Kennedy take up position in front of the semi-circle of slayers either sprawled over the furniture or sat on the floor. 'Any questions?' she asked.

One of the newly arrived girls from LA raised her hand, they had been sent as temporary reinforcements to bolster the Cleveland Team and Kennedy was trying to get them up to speed as fast as possible.

'Go ahead' Kennedy told her. 'Rowena isn't it?' she asked.

The girl nodded. 'So we don't even know where Berith is going to rise exactly?' she asked.

Kennedy looked to Stephen who shook his head. 'We imagine it will be somewhere nearby in order to reap the maximum benefit from the Hellmouth energies but as to specifics we're clueless' he admitted. 'One reason we have for bringing in extra personnel such as yourself is so we can cover all our bases, if I may be permitted to use an Americanism' he added with a smile.

Another girl raised her hand and Kennedy pointed to her. 'Roberta right?' she queried, not being _quite_ so sure this time, the girl nodded and Kennedy felt pretty pleased with herself, she was so much better with remembering names than Buffy.

'What if it rises _inside_ the Hellmouth cavern?' Roberta asked. 'Isn't there like a seal over a big cave like there was in Sunnydale?'

'If there is we haven't been able to find it despite locator spells, geological surveys and divining rods' Kennedy replied.

'Divining rods?' Rowena asked.

'Talk to Sandy about that one' Kennedy advised indicating one of the usual Cleveland team.

'Okay I know it _sounds_ hokey' Sandy began in her defence, 'but my uncle found a well on our land back home like that so I thought it was worth a try' she told the group. 'Maybe I was doing it wrong?' she suggested with a shrug.

'Or _maybe_ it's just a load of superstitious bollocks' Stephen responded in a tone that indicated the ongoing annoyance he felt about five consecutive nights spent following the girl around the city while she played at dowsing with two pieces of bent wire. 'In any case I'm starting to think that the Cleveland Hellmouth itself might very well be situated out under the lake which makes it quite the chore for _both_ sides to get to, and which may also in turn explain why everyone trying to open a Hellmouth always went to the one in California instead of the one that _didn't_ inconveniently have a slayer and her erstwhile crew of associates guarding it.'

'Makes sense' one of the new girls agreed.

'Just because he's not middle-aged and wearing tweed don't go thinking our watcher here is second rate' Kennedy declared. 'Even if he _did_ only get the job because there wasn't anyone else to do it' she added teasingly.

Stephen sighed. 'It wasn't all that long ago that slayers were expected to show respect and deference to their watcher but now its rebellion and defiance instead' he said sadly. 'It's a slippery slope, they'll be letting women vote and permitting colonies have their independence next mark my words' he added deadpan.

'You're way too outnumbered to be saying things like that' Kennedy told him, playing along. They tended to spark off each other quite well and they had gradually adopted a humorous patter between them that they hoped improved relations between the two of them in the quasi leadership positions and the others. Stephen had worried that Kennedy's manner might lead to ongoing problems with the more sensitive girls, she was more than forthright and demanding at times, whereas to Kennedy's mind the watcher himself was still occasionally prone to bouts of being an insufferable jerk. Their light-hearted banter for the most part seemed achieve its aims, it certainly reduced tensions.

'I revel in my distinctiveness as watcher, male and Englishman amidst a sea of those who lack these undisputed blessings' Stephen replied trying to maintain a straight face. 'Slayers are ten a penny but watchers are rare as rocking horse shit' he continued then finally cracked up setting off Kennedy.

'They do this double-act routine all the time' Shannon said loudly over the general laughter coming from all directions. 'They think they're funny, best to go along with it and laugh or she'll take you off the rotation list to borrow her scythe' she advised.

'We _are_ funny' Stephen protested regaining his control. 'Well _I_ am' he continued 'she's usually the straight man' he said.

'Not that I'm a man' Kennedy noted. 'Or straight for that matter' she added.

'And like they've never used_ that_ line before' Jackie interjected.

Stephen frowned. 'I think we need new material' he told Kennedy. 'You think the Limey and Lesbian stuff is wearing thing?'

'Maybe we could play up the sword obsession thing more' Kennedy suggested.

'I don't know maybe that's getting rusty too?' Stephen responded.

'What? With the time _you_ spend polishing them?' Shannon and Jackie interrupted simultaneously before Kennedy could say it.

'We _definitely_ need to come up with new jokes' Stephen told Kennedy, 'the acts gone stale' he told her dejectedly.

'I could do my sword juggling routine' she suggested. 'Or you could try stripping, I've seen The Full Monty, you Brits do that.'

'Best not' Stephen told her. 'If I turned you straight Willow would flay me alive and I wouldn't want to strip down _that_ far' he said with a mock grimace.

Jackie laughed along with the others. 'That one was new' she announced and started everyone off with a round of applause which led Stephen to take a distinctly tongue-in-cheek bow. 'Thank God I thought we'd lost the knack for a second there' he said to Kennedy with relief. 'I guess the old Watcher and Slayer Variety Hour isn't going to get cancelled May 2004 after all.'

Kennedy nodded. 'I hate it when the good shows don't get renewed and just fade away at the end of the Season' she said.

**Great Russell Street – London – May 2004**

Roger Wyndam-Pryce finished reading the summary page of Molly's voluminous report from her mission to Rome and removed his reading glasses, he would review the entire thing later but it was at least twenty-thousand words in length not including notes to diagrams and the appendices. 'Excellent work as ever' he told the slayer who smiled. 'I was concerned that you might end up somehow entangled in the political intricacies of the dispute between the demon clans but you met the problem in a straightforward manner and prevented a rather nasty inter-demon-clan gang war escalating onto the streets where humans might have suffered.'

Molly nodded. 'It wasn't difficult' she said modestly. 'We just knocked everyone's heads together and told the boys from the Goran Family seeking revenge, and the guys that whacked their Capo, that if they thought we'd allow them to go to war they had another thing coming' she said. 'We forced the Clan that started it to apologise and pay restitution and made it clear that it all ended there or we'd exterminate the lot of them.'

'Might have been better if you did' Roger Wyndam-Pryce observed.

'According to our sources the Goran and most of the other Demon Mafia families that originally come from Italy are just into crime, they don't have an issue with humans and the rules say we don't arbitrarily kill demons just for _being_ demons, they have to _earn_ that kind of attention' she said. 'We added a little proviso that we don't like the Orpheus trade and if any of them are involved in that we'll come calling again but once we laid down the law they were all sweet as you like' she said. 'Of course having a gun pointed to the back of your head tends to concentrate your mind, assuming you don't want it splashed out.'

'Giving them an offer they couldn't refuse may be clichéd I suppose but it maintains its effectiveness' the old watcher agreed. 'One hopes you didn't adopt a faux-Mafiosi accent?'

'Can't pull it off' Molly told him. 'We did call Buffy our Capo though' she admitted. 'Hey your son calls her "Don Summerlione" sometimes too, it's a running joke back in LA' she told him with a smile.

Roger Wyndham-Pryce narrowed his eyes, he preferred his son not to crop up in conversation, it was easier to try and forget he existed at all. 'And all the girls you took with you performed well?' he asked.

Molly nodded. 'Even the newbies that only just got back from training in the States' she told him. There was now a steady stream of slayers heading back and forth across the Atlantic as girls were located and dispatched to Los Angeles for instruction and were then either assigned to gunslayer duty or more often sent back to join the ever expanding European slayer contingent which now had a branch office up and running in Paris too with a decision about to be made on whether Rome or Warsaw got the third European office. In terms of numbers Molly now theoretically had more slayers under her direct command than anyone but Buffy herself, although she did benefit from the assistance of the majority of surviving watchers even if they were nearly all formerly retired and had been recalled to active duty.

'So what are your plans now?' the watcher asked. If she didn't already have any in mind he was more than willing to offer some policy suggestions as part of his ongoing objective to open up some distance between the European and American sides of the operation. Despite their apparent success he couldn't rid himself of the impression that the latter were becoming irredeemably tainted by the influence of the vile demon that had somehow cast a metaphorical spell over both elements of the new Council and indeed his own flesh and blood.

'I'm going to head down to Devon to see the Coven there' Molly replied, 'we're hoping that they will be willing to set up more formal ties and give us some more witchy backup' she told him. 'I got an email from Willow that she and Giles have been working on them and they could be starting to come around to our way of thinking.'

'You know the Council always had a somewhat frosty relationship with them' he told her. 'That undoubtedly colours the relationship' he continued. 'They considered us excessively patriarchal I believe' the watcher told her, rolling his eyes. Bloody feminists he thought.

'That didn't help but I reckon the big problem was Illyria' Molly told him. 'In the end Willow used a bit of psychology on them, played up the fact she was more of a Goddess than a God now really and also mentioned that she talks to plants and has a greeny love of nature thing going on as well as a bluey love of violence.'

Roger Wyndam-Pryce sighed. 'Yes it really does all seem to come down to presentation these days doesn't it' he responded glumly. 'If the facts themselves are distasteful merely spin them until they appear more palatable to the consumer' the old watcher continued. 'I'm not sure whether I find the endemic political chicanery of modern society in itself more abhorrent than I do the demonic influence that surely spawned it' he declared. 'And as for the advertising industry' he added with exaggerated dismay.

Molly laughed. 'I've seen plenty of adverts on the telly which made me think the people that made it _must_ have sold their souls to someone' she agreed. 'So have you heard anything from Robin Wood?' she asked.

'He sent in a report with his satellite telephone the day before yesterday' Wyndam-Pryce replied. 'He successfully located and recruited the girl he was seeking down near the Uganda/Rwanda border and he's going to put her on the next flight from Entebbe to Heathrow' he told the girl. 'Had a very tricky time of it trying to persuade her family he wasn't trying to make her his wife apparently.'

'Language troubles?' Molly asked.

'More cultural I think' the old watcher told her. 'One benefit he has is that Uganda like much of Africa was of course part of the Empire and a legacy of English speakers around continues even if only a minority use the language day to day.'

'So how many is that now?' Molly asked. 'African recruits he's collected I mean.'

'I'm not sure, but I must confess that his success in rounding up slayers down there has been highly impressive' Wyndam-Pryce told her. 'At the risk of being accused of racism in these Politically Correct times I think he benefits from not exactly standing out in the crowd as much as others of us would.'

Molly nodded. 'They were saying at one time about Xander Harris going there.'

'Good grief' Roger Wyndham-Pryce exclaimed. 'The boy's hardly left California as far as I know' he said. 'At least young Robin Wood has seen something of the world and enjoyed the benefit of being raised by his late mother's former watcher so he knows something of the game.'

'Xander's pretty sharp' Molly responded with a hint of defensiveness. 'People underestimate him' she opined.

'That may be the case but we should all play to our strengths or else we waste our potential' he replied. 'Having him construct that secular temple to the methods and resources of the new Council at the outskirts of the former Sunnydale Hellmouth is a _far_ more sensible use of his talents surely?'

'He got the Hyperion renovated and fully up to code faster than anyone thought he could' Molly agreed. 'And he seems to know a lot about concrete which is handy when you're building bunkers I suppose.'

'Well then, all of us in our proper station in life' Wyndam-Pryce declared. 'Me behind this desk, you out in the field giving evil a damn good thrashing, Robin Wood out and about gathering other slayers for the cause and Master Harris wearing a hard hat.'

'So if we're all supposed to end up where we should be, doing the job we're destined for, then what do you think about the Deeper Well Annwfyn prophecies that put Illyria back on her throne' she asked trying not to smirk. Anything to do with his son and/or the Blue Meanie was always a great way to wind him up and Molly liked to do that once in a while, especially when he was being even more of a pompous old twit than normal.

The baleful glare he fixed her with was more than enough to tell Molly she had knocked it for six, or as the Yanks might say hit it out of the ballpark, with that one.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – May 2004**

Buffy found Faith leaning against back a wall watching girls spar in the training room. Both the floor and walls were covered in crash mats and the other slayer looked comfortable enough physically if not too happy in herself judging by the expression on her face. 'Hey Faith' Buffy greeted her, 'where's Dana?'' she asked.

'Following Drusilla around the hotel, I guess she still enjoys giving Vampira, Mistress of the Dark and Disturbed, the stalker treatment' Faith replied.

Buffy grinned. Dana had taken it upon herself to keep a very close eye on the vampire and regularly stalked her giving Drusilla a serious complex into the bargain to add to her already impressive list of major psychological problems. 'I thought Drusilla was with Cordy today?' she asked.

'Corr got sidetracked into helping Diana with something admin-wise, she's still the only one that understands the old Angel Investigations filing system' Faith replied. 'They've got their session of vision interpretation going on tomorrow now' she explained.

Buffy nodded, it had caught them all by surprise but after a few weeks it had become self-evident that Cordelia seemed to have a _much_ better handle on interpreting Drusilla's rambling monologues and cryptic replies than anyone else, a fact she attributed to years of being sent extremely obscure visions herself by the Powers-That-Be. Apparently it was just an adaptively off-beat way of viewing things that, in Cordelia's own words "you non-visiony people don't get". As for Buffy she was more than happy not to have to waste perfectly good braincells trying to figure out what the hell Dru was talking about herself, especially given that much of the time it really _was_ gibberish or else the vampire was making things up to amuse herself watching everyone trying to make sense of a few randomly strung together words.

'So what do you think about the gunslayer chicks?' Buffy asked, looking them over herself.

'They're sloppy at hand-to-hand' Faith replied. 'They didn't train for unarmed combat or one-to-one fighting much on Pylea and they've gotten rusty at it' she replied. 'I also had to stop them going full-contact at each other.'

'Full-Contact?' Buffy queried.

'Yeah' Faith replied. 'They weren't pulling their punches.'

Buffy frowned. 'That would kinda hurt' she replied. 'I know. I've been hit full-on by a slayer before myself once or twice.'

Faith chuckled. 'You got in a few good shots yourself' she replied. 'You know Jailbait?'

'That's what they call Charlotte right?' Buffy asked.

Faith nodded. 'That's her' she confirmed. 'Well anyway she had a black eye and a busted lip and when I told her that was enough she told me that "pain is just weakness leaving the body" and went back to sparring' Faith told Buffy. 'They're seriously hard-core' she opined. 'You know like me, but they've got that focus thing you always did better than me too, plus a bit of something else.'

'Something like what?' Buffy asked.

Faith frowned. 'You know that ice-cold detached sociopathic thing Wes has going for him when he's got his game on?' she asked rhetorically. 'Well it's kinda like that' she told her. 'And they've got this weird "fuck with one of us and we'll _all_ kick your ass" vibe going on too.'

'They're killers not slayers' Buffy said softly. 'You should have seen them doing their thing in the field' she continued. 'They were so… clinical.'

'I can believe it' Faith replied. 'They put me away for killing someone, some of these girls have got up into the double digits killing people, I mean _people_ people' she said. 'They don't even _know_ how many demons they've killed.'

'Ask Rika when she gets back' Buffy told her. 'She keeps count, says she's after the all-time record for sniper kills' she continued. 'You know the one's that were _really_ good at it haven't come back yet, they're still on Pylea warping the next batch of innocent young minds.'

'Wes wants to take the best of them to Cleveland for when Berith shows up, in case he brings his own boys with him' Faith noted, 'supposed to have a few Demon Legions under his belt.'

'By "best" I suppose he means worst' Buffy replied wryly.

'Faith shrugged. 'Matter of perspective' she replied. 'The one's that can cause the most damage in the shortest space of time and not feel bad about it afterwards.'

'It's like he's got groupies' Buffy observed. 'You know when I met Vi I never saw her as being the founder member of the Wesley-ettes.'

'She's real good with a gun, if it hadn't been for Illyria showing up and changing things she'd have never known' Faith noted. 'Wasted potential even _after_ she got all slayered up.'

Buffy leaned against the wall next to Faith. 'I don't like guns' she said.

'Yeah we know' Faith replied. 'Xander thinks it's because you think it's not what slaying should be about, but that's kinda weird in itself because it's about the only thing you and the old Council ever seemed to agree on' she said. 'Wes thinks it's because you're a crap shot' she added with a smirk.

Buffy scowled. 'So what do _you_ think' she asked.

'I think that allowing slayers to die because they don't carry the best tool for the job for _any_ reason sucks' Faith told her. 'What if we faced a bunch of fucking zombies or something? We could spend five hours hacking at them with swords which they wouldn't even feel and lose a few girls into the bargain _or_ we could spend five minutes blowing their heads off with shotguns and then all grab an early lunch.'

'Hard to argue with laid out in black and white like that' Buffy admitted. 'Do you think Wes would give me shooting lessons?'

'Hell he offered me _elocution_ lessons so I don't see why not' Faith told her.

'Elocution lessons?' Buffy asked with a grin.

Faith rolled her eyes. 'He said I'd be a more effective slayer, and could blend in better in a wider circle of society if I didn't talk like a Teamster' she said. 'I nearly slugged him but I reckon he'd have seen that as proving his point.'

'I'd be careful if I was you' Buffy cautioned. 'He got Illyria to act almost polite and considerate of others feelings, well sometimes anyway, and if he can do _that_ then he might even make Faith Lehane into a lady' she told her. 'And tell the truth you like the fact he thinks you're worth the effort don't you?' she asked with a wink.

'He's making amends for being a fuck-up as my watcher, thinks he owes me something, but let's be honest even Wes in his wussy skinny-ass pimp-suit days was a better watcher than I was a slayer' Faith responded.

'Amazing what a few years can do' Buffy observed.

'It's not the years B' Faith told her, 'it's the mileage' she joked. 'And the prison, torture and shit probably helped swing it too.'

'You should try _dying _for a life changing event' Buffy told her. 'That'll change you.'

Faith sighed. 'You just can't _help_ but try and upstage me can you?' she asked rhetorically.

'Hey _I'm_ the hero' Buffy told her. 'You're just one of the whacky sidekicks' Buffy told her, trying not to laugh.

Faith pushed herself away from the wall and pulled herself up to her full height which although not exactly towering was still a couple of inches taller than Buffy. 'Okay hero how about we show these girls how it's supposed to be done because I'm going to kick you in the side of the head and then whack your sorry ass all around this room' she declared.

Buffy looked Faith in the eyes, 'If you think that'll happen then you're trippin' F' she declared trying to imitate Faith's delivery.

Faith frowned 'I don't really sound like that do I?' she asked, bending down to take off her boots as Buffy did likewise.

'You kinda do' Buffy told her.

'I might take Wes up on those elocution lessons' Faith told her.

'Do you a deal, if you can stick out being Eliza Doolittle I'll take those shooting classes with me.'

'Who the hell is Eliza Doolittle' Faith asked as they made their way to the centre of the room, the other slayers clearing a path. Buffy/Faith matches were a lot of fun to watch though overall Illyria/Glory sparring was guaranteed a better crowd, Dawn usually insisted on a ringside seat for those ones.

'I'll lend you the DVD of _My Fair Lady_' Buffy told her.

'Whatever' Faith replied non-committally, it was a damn stupid name anyway she thought.

**Wolfram and Hart Building – Los Angeles – May 2004**

Lilah rose from her seat when the Archduke entered but he indicated she should sit back down and he took the proffered chair across the desk from her and made himself comfortable as his slave pulled the plug in his wrist and poured his master a crystal goblet of his own life's blood.

Hauser stood behind Lilah arms at parade rest behind his back and tried not to react with distaste at the scene. The scrawny slave of Sebassis own race looked so pitiful he was struck by an extremely rare pang of sympathy and suppressed the urge to draw his automatic pistol and end the slaves miserable existence then and there with a nine-millimetre to the brain. The damn thing looked so pathetic and broken it would have been merciful, not that mercy was in any way part of the man's usual forte.

'So did it work?' Lilah asked.

'As ever straight down to business Ms. Morgan' the Archduke responded raising his glass of blood in a mock toast, 'I admire that although not to the extent that I will not be seeking full reimbursement for my losses in this scheme of yours.'

Lilah nodded. 'I have already arranged a transfer of funds to your accounts representing the full sum of the pre-negotiated dollar value of each demon lost to your forces in the battle' she told him, 'even more than we thought but worth it I hope if it achieved the desired objective.'

The Archduke took a sip of his drink and savoured the flavour, it was one of his favourite vintages of slave and tickled the palate ever so sweetly. 'As a matter of fact it went even better than I expected' he told her. 'I did not even have to suggest to my forces on Pylea that there was only one possible response to the disaster' he continued. 'It was they who came to me as a delegation to _demand_ that we equip the Legions with human weaponry.'

'Superlative result' Lilah declared, more than pleased with the result. 'Well worth the loss of some cannon-fodder.'

Sebassis nodded. 'Until they felt the sharp sting of defeat from a far inferior number of mere humans, and a smattering of Pylean natives from predominately physically weaker demon clans, many still ardently resisted the notion that they should debase themselves to employing the devices created by your people' he said. 'The prior defeats they suffered at the hands of the firearm equipped slayers were all too often attributed fully to the nature of those using the weapons rather than the weapons themselves' he continued, 'our people are used to the idea of being vanquished by slayers so they did not fully grasp the situation for what it was but now they do.'

'Adapt or die' Lilah interjected. 'We arranged it so the enemy would evolve them, or at least give them enough of a reality check to make them finally see the light.'

'Indeed' the Archduke agreed. 'As I said, many in my armies are clamouring for human firearms and training so that they can avenge their fallen comrades, it's a revolution in thinking that only the most extreme of circumstances could have forced.'

Lilah turned to Hauser. 'How long before we can start shipping guns to Pylea?' she asked.

Hauser looked thoughtful. 'It would have been easier if we had pre-purchased the weaponry but of course that would have raised suspicions amongst the Archdukes troops that sending in his forces without even token support from my own men on Pylea had been a deliberate act designed to bring about this situation' he replied. 'It's not just a matter of sending the arms either, we also need to train the demons who will carry them' he pointed out. 'As it is I think we could have at least a full Cohort both equipped, and at least partially trained to the level they would have a degree of effectiveness within two months' he told them. 'We know that Pylean Demon Clans allied with the slayers have embraced the use of firearms and knowing something can be done puts you well on the way to doing it yourself.'

Lilah nodded. 'Our demons just needed the right motivation' she opined. 'The slayers blazed a trail, they shouldn't have thought they would be the only travellers on it for ever' she stated with a distinctly feral grin.

'And what of the Lord of the Covenant' Sebassis asked, 'surely you expect Baal Berith to deal a hammer blow to our enemies and render this all moot in any case?' he continued. 'With the slayer organisation destroyed, or at least badly disrupted, here on Earth their ability to fund and resource their forces, both surrogate and otherwise, on Pylea must surely be weakened to the point of capitulation?' he suggested.

'We are, needless to say, getting prepared for his arrival' Lilah told him. 'Sacrifices being offered in his name, prophecies being gone over with a fine tooth comb, lots of chanting, but I'm _not_ going to count my chickens until they've hatched' she declared. 'The opposition have triumphed over situations you wouldn't give them a candles chance in hell in surviving too many times for me not to plan for what we do if they come out ahead yet again.'

Sebassis nodded, for a human Lilah Morgan was unusually intelligent, ruthless and efficient and he appreciated that. 'I hope you don't mind me imposing' he said, 'but unfortunately my slave here has heard rather too much and I can't really allow him the opportunity to spread the word that I deliberately sent two legions to their certain death merely to motivate the others.'

Lilah nodded. 'Fortunately my carpet doesn't stain' she told him, 'special enchantment' she explained before looking to Hauser and giving him the nod.

The slave looked almost relieved when the head of Wolfram and Hart's LA Black Ops smoothly drew his gun and shot him between the eyes. Hauser felt okay about it too, sometimes things worked out pretty well he thought happily to himself as he holstered his pistol again.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This fanfic runs on reviews (back to two updates a week too!)_


	24. Chapter 24

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

**Demon Bar – Los Angeles – May 2004**

'Sometimes you gotta go where everybody hates your guts' Faith joked taking a seat on the barstool next to Wesley.

Wesley half smiled and pushed her beer towards her. 'Sometimes you've got to go somewhere where you don't have to deal with a horde of teenage girls' he replied as Faith picked up her glass and chinked it against his own.

The barman looked at them with concern. 'I don't want any trouble' he told them. The scruffy watcher was one thing but Faith had developed a serious rep in the demon underworld as being the slayer the other slayers were wary off.

'So don't start any' Faith told him. 'We're just here for the beer and the ambience' she told him, 'maybe not the beer' she added after tasting it. To be honest the ambience kinda sucked too now she came to think about it.

Wesley swallowed a massive gulp. 'Trust me' he said, 'after you've tried Pylea's finest ales anything else seems like nectar' he told her. 'Maybe not Budweiser' he added after thinking about it.

'Smooth move telling B we were out doing a job' Faith told Wesley. 'I like the still being on the clock when I'm in a bar even if I ain't liking the looks I'm getting.'

'When do you ever go to a bar and not get looked at?' Wesley asked with a chuckle.

'Hey I don't mind guys looking at me like they want to eat me in the _good_ way' Faith replied with a wink.

'Why Ms. Lehane I'm shocked' Wesley replied, feigning horror.

'Oh yeah because I bet _your_ chick is all passive and doesn't expect you to do your fair share' Faith responded taking a decent swig of the beer. It wasn't remotely good but a few more and it wouldn't matter.

'So if I told you she just lies back and thinks of Vahla ha'nesh you wouldn't buy that then?' Wesley asked with a chuckle.

'I just ain't seeing it somehow Wes' Faith told him shaking her head. 'Now her pinning you down so she could have her wicked way with you, _that_ I could buy.'

Wesley shrugged. 'It's a tough job but somebody's got to do it' he told her in his most stoic tones, before finishing off his beer. 'Two more' he told the barman putting a bill down on the bar and his empty glass on top of it.

Not wanting to let him get too far ahead Faith finished her own beer in one go and put the glass down next to Wesley's. 'So why me?' she asked.

'Why you what?' Wesley queried.

'This all expenses paid, on the clock drinking session' Faith answered. 'Why drag me along not the girlfriend?' she asked.

'Illyria doesn't really approve of my drinking, she call it poison, and she doesn't get drunk so she's no fun either' Wesley replied. 'I've done enough drinking alone and I don't want to get back into that so you drew the short straw.'

Faith smiled. 'You could have asked Chuck' she suggested. 'Or Spike, this is his kind of place and it's not like he's difficult to persuade to go get a drink.'

Wesley reached for his second beer which the barman had just put down. 'Want to grab a stall in that corner over there?' he asked.

'It's occupied' Faith pointed out.

'Oi you two' Wesley hollered at the two vampires sat in the stall. 'Go sit somewhere else or the slayer here gets some stake practice in' he told them, nodding his head slightly towards Faith. One of them looked like they were on the verge of objecting but after a second's consideration thought better of it and they vacated the stall and headed further down the bar.

Faith picked up her beer and followed Wesley into the stall sitting across from him one foot up on the bench seat leaning against the back corner. 'So as I was saying why me?' she asked.

'Spike's history too evil' Wesley replied, 'and anyway the vampire can drink me under the table and I drink too competitively not to try and keep up.'

'And Gunn?' Faith asked.

'Not evil enough' Wesley replied with a grin. 'It's like Goldilocks and the Three Bears' he continued. 'You're _just_ right.'

Faith laughed. 'So I'm your drinking buddy this evening because you figure we're about equal in the asshole stakes?' she asked.

'That's about sums it up' Wesley told her. 'I can relax because I just can't see you being a hypocritical bitch and judging me and I really need to blow off some steam' he told her. 'I've spent months playing some kind of father figure cum military leader to a load of teenagers and I just want to unwind and be a jerk.'

'Well if you put it like that Wes…' Faith began then paused, 'no I'm still not honoured' she told him.

'Feel free to be a jerk yourself' Wesley offered, 'or should that be jerkette?' he asked. 'Tell the truth, all the team-playing and trying to be a role model and inspiration to the new slayers has got to get to you sometimes?'

Faith opened her mouth to deny it then stopped. 'Oh shit yeah' she admitted. 'It's one thing teaching them how to bust heads but the rest of the crap just makes me want to scream some days' she told him. 'I don't even get enough field time to dump some tension wailing on something any more.'

Wesley smiled. 'You know what really pisses me off' he told her. 'It's people expecting me to be a bloody wisdom spouting patriarch like Rupert Giles.'

Faith snorted. 'Try being in Buffy's shadow' she told him.

'Tight squeeze with you being in there already' Wesley replied. 'It's munchkin sized to start with' he joked.

'And that's one that always got me' Faith responded, leaning in to whisper. 'If those Dagon Monk dudes made Dawn from Buffy why is she like a foot taller?' she asked, exaggerating quite a bit.

'Their order was based in Europe' Wesley replied, equally quietly. 'Maybe they cocked up the conversion from metric to imperial measurement when they measured Buffy up' he suggested tongue-in-cheek.

'Imperial?' Faith queried.

'You know, feet and Inches etc.' Wesley answered, 'You call it "standard" over here but that's a bit of a misnomer when you consider that only the US and Britain uses it much any more, and _we_ use metric nearly as much as imperial ourselves back home.'

Faith shrugged. 'Hey you never know you could be onto something there with them screwing up the plans.'

'Could have been a lot worse' Wesley suggested. 'Imagine if they'd accidentally made Dawn five and half metres tall instead of five and a half feet.'

Faith laughed. 'Dawnzilla' she joked.

Wesley laughed and then leaned back talking another mouthful of beer from his glass. It wasn't just the drink in itself, he had always liked spending time in pubs and bars and had used up a great deal of his free time in them, hustling people at darts and bemoaning the lack of decent beers on this side of the Atlantic although some of the stuff coming from micro-breweries these days was becoming halfway passable he had to admit. 'So have you thought about your long-term plans?' he asked curiously. 'You realise that your life expectancy as a slayer has likely increased enormously over what it would have been in the old days.'

Faith shifted position on the bench seat to make herself more comfortable. 'Not thought about it much' she admitted. 'Always had my heart set on going down in a blaze of glory before I was twenty-five' she told him. 'Damned if I know what I'm going to do with myself now.'

'Find a nice young chap, settle down and have children perhaps?' Wesley suggested, fighting back the urge to laugh.

'Oh yeah _that's_ what I've always dreamed of' Faith replied sardonically. 'Motherhood' she continued. 'Do you think that would be fair on some kid?'

'You might be good at it' Wesley replied. 'If I ever end up with children I've already got a foolproof plan' he told her. 'Do the exact bloody opposite of what my Father did and I can't go too far wrong.'

'Good plan' Faith agreed. 'I'll do the same with my Mom' she told him.

Wesley half smiled. 'To quote the great English poet Philip Larkin "They fuck you up your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had, and add some extra, just for you".'

'I like it' Faith told him raising her glass in salute.

'I thought it might be to your tastes' Wesley told her. 'Another beer?' he asked.

'Sure if you're paying' Faith told him.

'I'll fudge it on the expense account' Wesley told her.

Faith frowned. 'Watch out for Anya' she warned, 'She keeps a close eye on the accounts.'

'I like to live dangerously' Wesley told her. 'And another line of verse has occurred I think you'll like given this is your third beer' he told her. 'This one is from Dorothy Parker. "I wish I could drink like a lady, I can take one or two at the most. Three and I'm under the table. Four and I'm under the host".'

Faith grinned. 'Given what your girl would do to _both_ of us if that happened it would take a hell of a lot more than four to override my survival instincts' she told him.

Wesley nodded. 'Good point' he told her. 'I don't like to live _that_ dangerously no matter how tempting the notion might be' he added with a wink.

This time Faith feigned shock. 'Getting pretty close to breaching the watcher/slayer code of ethics with talk like that' she told him.

'Still time to amend the latest revisions to the handbook before it goes to print' Wesley replied then paused. 'Nope my girlfriends still too scary' he decided. 'No offence.'

'None taken' Faith told him, anyhow she _was_.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – May 2004**

Buffy looked from Wesley to Faith. 'You two look like you went up against fifty vampires and lost' she told them. 'And don't even think about trying to put your drink bill against expenses' she told them.

Wesley opened his mouth to retort but the slightest movement hurt so he gave up on the idea of arguing.

'If a vampire _had_ bitten either of them it would have fallen over completely rat-arsed after the first pint' Spike declared. He himself had not only gotten stoned off the blood of a Hippy Lady once in the Sixties he still remembered that Scotsman the one time who must have had two bottles of Whisky in him. 'I can smell the alcohol seeping out of their skin' he declared, Angel and Connor nodding in agreement.

'Rat-arsed?' Dawn queried. 'I'm guessing that's another colourful British phrase for drunk?' she asked, handing out typed reports to everyone.

'He was so drunk when he returned to the Hotel he was not even interested in sex' Illyria complained, causing Dawn to have to fight back laughter.

'Well not _capable_ I'd bet, rather than not interested' Spike opined getting two fingers from Wesley in response.

Faith pushed her dark glasses back up her nose, they had slipped down while she was resting her head on the conference table. 'It was a mistake shifting from beer to Jack Daniels' she said ruefully.

'Beer bad' Buffy told her. 'Whiskey worse' she added.

'Did we have to have this meeting so early?' Wesley moaned.

'It's nearly lunchtime' Giles told him.

'Please don't mention food' the younger watcher replied.

Illyria glared at her Qwa'ha Xahn. 'He is very unattractive when he is like this' she declared. 'I am therefore happy that he remains less than amorous.'

'They don't set a very good example to the younger watchers and slayers' Dawn observed.

'I don't remember ever signing up to be a role model do you Wes?' Faith asked.

'I don't remember much of anything at the moment' Wesley replied. 'Does anyone know if breaking an Orlon Window works on a hangover?' he asked plaintively.

Willow dashed into the Conference Room. 'Sorry I'm late' she began. 'I was talking to Xander on the phone' she explained then grinned. 'You'll never guess what Anya did yesterday' she told the group taking her seat.

'Something irksome no doubt' Giles responded.

'I imagine the local wildlife thought so' Willow told them. 'Xander was supervising a delivery of concrete when he heard a load of gunfire followed by a huge explosion near the trailer where he and Anya are staying.'

'Anya is alright isn't she?' Illyria responded instantly, rising to her feet. 'If any our of foes have injured her I will slaughter them.'

'It's okay' Willow told her. 'Anya's fine, it was _her_ making all the noise' she explained.

'Well what was she doing?' Buffy asked.

Willow grinned. 'She was out sunbathing when a rabbit ran past her and she freaked' she told them. 'Next thing she does is to go and get Xanders gun and she starts blazing away at the poor furry thing full-automatic, shoots holes in everything _but_ the rabbit according to Xander.'

'And the explosion?' Giles asked nervously.

'She figured out how to use the grenade launcher fitted to Xanders M-16 and blew the rabbit to bunny heaven in itty-bitty pieces' Willow replied.

'Oh that poor little rabbit' Dawn moaned.

Willow nodded her agreement with Dawn's sentiment. 'When Xander found her she was holding his rifle over her head and screaming what she told him later was a Viking battlecry.'

'Does fighting rabbits get you into Valhalla?' Buffy asked Giles.

'Somehow I don't think Odin would go along with it' Giles told her, 'nothing short of the Rabbit of Caerbannog anyway' he added with a smile.

'Defeated by the Holy Grenade Launcher of Antioch' Spike joked causing Wesley to laugh though he immediately regretted it as his head started pounding again.

Connor looked at them blankly. 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail' Illyria told him. 'I have been researching the Arthurian Legends and related film and print media in some depth of late' she explained to Spike who looked at her with surprise. 'It was better than the musical Camelot' she added.

Buffy picked up her pen and tapped it against the water jug on the table a few times. 'Alright that's enough fun for now' she said. 'Fred is helping Knox finish off the special scythe and Medousa says she'll get it enchanted in record time so that it's ready in case we need it.'

'Plastic fantastic' Spike commented. 'It just sounds tacky to me' he opined. 'They'll have slayers with formica stakes next.'

'Wouldn't work' Angel told him. 'I got some of that stuck through me back in the forties' he told him.

'Cordelia is still working with Drusilla trying to get her to earn her keep on the vision front' Buffy continued, ignoring the two vampires.

'At what point do we give up on that and give her a taste of good old fashioned _wooden_ stakeage?' Dawn asked surprised by the looks she received from both Spike and Angel at the suggestion.

'Given the fact we are pretty much cut off from the Powers Drusilla remains our best bet in terms of access to visions' Giles replied. 'She might be awkward but she's all we've got for the moment' he noted.

Dawn crossed her arms. 'And what about Harmony?' she asked. 'Don't tell me we haven't got access to other typists because of the PTB's' she said.

'Harmony has her uses' Illyria interjected. 'If nothing else we should assume she is still secretly working for the Wolf, Ram and Hart and we could use her to feed false information to them.'

'You think she's a _spy_?' Buffy exclaimed.

'She almost certainly will be at first' Illyria told her. 'Harmony was always self-serving' she continued. 'In the original timeline she was fairly loyal to Angel while he seemed to be on the ascendant but she betrayed him to Hamilton in the end because she likely perceived the Half Breed to be on the losing side of the developing conflict.'

'So if she thinks we're the winning team she'll be on _our _side?' Faith asked, her headache was slowly starting to fade though not fast enough for her preference.

'No she will remain on _her_ side' Illyria replied. 'As to which faction she is currently affiliated with that could shift with the ebb and tide of war, in some ways she could have utility as a barometer.'

'She's evil' Dawn declared. Her history with Harmony tended to colour her opinion on the matter.

'Be fair Knibblet' Spike responded. 'She wasn't ever any _good_ at being evil now was she?' he asked rhetorically.

'Wasn't she your girlfriend?' Angel asked, 'before you replaced her with that robot I've heard about wasn't it?' he asked with a definite smirk on his face.

Spike frowned. 'I never treated her very well' he admitted, ignoring Angel's other comment. 'Feel bad about it now too' he continued. 'Look I'll keep an eye on her' he told everyone. 'Keep her in line like' he said. 'You know she always missed her friends, used to tell me so.'

'She never bit Cordelia when she had the chance' Angel agreed. 'I hate to agree with Spike but compared to Drusilla she's not much of a threat at all.'

'And you _know_ how much he hates to agree with me' Spike pointed out. 'Ringing endorsement I call it.'

'So do you have any other vampire exes we can expect to find around the place anytime soon?' Giles asked Spike sardonically.

'No it was just Dru and Harmony' Spike replied. 'Dru dusted my other occasional dalliances and there was only a couple, which isn't bad when you think how long we were together… and the fact I didn't have a soul' he added.

'_I_ do not have a soul in your terms and would _never_ cheat on my Wesley' Illyria declared haughtily.

'And _he'd_ be too scared to cheat on _you_' Spike retorted.

'As it should be' Illyria replied.

'I wouldn't anyway' Wesley stated honestly.

Illyria smiled. 'If your breath smelled better I would kiss you' she told him.

'Good call' Wesley agreed. 'You should try breathing it from my side' he added.

'So when are we heading for Cleveland?' Dawn asked.

'_We're_ not' Buffy replied. 'You're staying here' she told her sister.

'I am not looking forward to the flight' Illyria stated. 'It would be wise to sit me next to Glory so she can restrain me if I become excessively agitated' she continued. 'You would not enjoy it if I punched a hole in the fuselage.'

'Yeah that would suck' Faith joked, she really _was_ starting to feel a lot better now. Certainly better than Wesley, although to be fair he had drunk a _lot_ more than she did.

'I wish you could portal there, or I could teleport you over' Willow remarked. Illyria stuck in an enclosed space for any length of time was not a nice prospect for anyone to consider. Even if she likely did have enough self-control not to go postal and bring down the flight Willow was basically a nice caring person and didn't like the idea that Illyria was likely going to have to suffer another bout of claustrophobia.

'I need the shell at maximum stability' Illyria replied, 'we do not know the full extent of Beriths power, I need to be there and I need to be able to use my powers as freely as possible just in case.'

Buffy nodded. 'As soon as we arrive at Cleveland we'll head for a park or something' she told her. 'I've told Stephen to meet us at the airport so you can ride in his convertible.'

'Thank you' Illyria replied. 'I am sorry for any inconvenience caused by my weakness' she added in clear embarrassment over her phobia.

'Whatever you are "weak" isn't it' Buffy told her, 'and I don't just mean the fact you can throw someone Angel's size over a building' she continued. 'If you were weak you couldn't face to get on the plane to begin with.'

'I would not have you face our enemies without me' Illyria replied with a shrug.

Buffy smiled. 'Well I'll say one thing for you' she said. 'You're the only one here that's more worried about _travelling_ there than you are about fighting the Demon Lord at the other end.'

'Not quite the typical "fight or flight" reaction' Giles agreed with a chuckle.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This Fanfic runs on reviews._


	25. Chapter 25

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – May 2004**

A nagging feeling in the back of Buffy's mind was telling her something was missing and it eventually came to her what it was. 'I should be standing in front of a really big flag' she whispered to Willow who tried not to giggle.

Wesley hurried in carrying a notebook and the girls who had been with him in Pylea all immediately stood up as they had done when Buffy entered the room, he indicated they should sit back down and they immediately complied.

'Can you believe these chicks' Rona whispered to Amanda, the two of them sat at the back of the room.

'I think they blink in unison too' Amanda whispered back and they laughed causing several of the Pylean war veterans to turn around and give them a cold glare.

'What are you looking at?' Rona asked the closest tersely.

The girl looked her up and down. 'Not much' she replied dismissively. 'Just a couple of REMF's who should show more respect.'

'We're _what_?' Amanda asked.

'Rear Echelon Mother… well you can guess the rest' the girl explained with a smirk.

Rona started to spring up from her seat but Amanda grabbed hold of her. 'Listen up kid' Amanda told her, although the gunslayer might have actually been a year or so older than her if anything, 'We were in Sunnydale, we've had plenty of field time since then, don't think that because you got to play GI Jane for a few months you're anything special' she hissed.

'Wanna compare body counts?' the gunslayer asked smugly. 'Ever been shot?' she continued. 'Ever stuck a bayonet through the guts of a human being and had him scream for his mommy before you pull your rifle clear and blow his fucking head off?' she asked loudly.

'Tanya that's enough' Wesley ordered sharply.

The girl turned back in her seat her eyes snapped back forward towards the front of the room. 'Yes Sir, sorry Sir' she responded immediately.

'You will consider Rona and Amanda as equivalent in rank to Gunslayer First Class and behave accordingly' Wesley told her sternly.

The girl opened her mouth to object but snapped in back shut again after a moment's reflection. 'Yes Sir' she said. Equivalent in rank my ass, she thought to herself.

'Sorry about that' Wesley apologised to Buffy. 'They seem to have developed some rough edges.'

'They seem razor sharp to me' Buffy replied evenly. 'Alright let's get this show on the road' she declared, straightening up in front of the girls and trying to adopt a military stance. 'As you all know tomorrow we are heading for Cleveland' she began. 'We expect Baal Berith, the so-called "Lord of the Covenant", to rise any time soon and when he does we are going to be right there waiting, ready to put him straight back down again' she declared, turning to Willow who switched on the big plasma screen on the wall that was connected to her laptop.

'This is a digital photograph of the statue of Berith we found in the caverns near Cleveland' she told them. 'As you can see he is human in form though whether that is his natural state we don't really know' she continued. 'The statue itself was some twenty feet high but we don't know if it was life-sized, we assume _not_ but we've met some darn big demons before' she told them. 'As you've probably heard we blew the statue to rubble and collapsed the cavern it was in with explosives but we don't think that will have prevented the demon rising' she said. 'Any questions so far?' she asked.

'How tough is this guy?' one of the girls asked.

'In demonology Berith was a soldier demon and a Great Duke of Hell' Wesley told them, opening up one of his books to the appropriate page to show them a centuries old artists impression. 'He commanded twenty-six Legions himself.'

'Only twenty-six?' the girl replied. 'Even that pussy Sebassis has over forty' she said. 'Well he did before _we_ started up on him' she added with a grin. 'Not that many now' she noted to a chorus of approving, though quite unladylike, whoops.

Wesley let them continue for a while before eventually raising a hand to stop them. 'Unlike Baal Berith the Archduke Sebassis was never worshipped as a _God_' he pointed out. 'It could be that although numerically inferior to the armies of others Berith's troops make up for in quality what they lack in quantity' he suggested. 'Certainly the fact that Sebassis is merely affiliated with the Wolf, Ram and Hart and not directly associated with them, in itself would indicate that Berith is at a different level.'

Willow nodded. 'We are also taking Berith seriously because of where and when he was originally worshipped' she told them. 'It adds some credibility to the notion that he's big with the mojo that both he and Dagon were part of the pantheon of Gods of the Phoenicians and their precursor civilisations in the Levant' the witch continued. 'We know from prior experience that Dagon is the real deal because the symbol of his followers could hurt Glory which takes some doing' she noted. 'It's not that big an extrapolation to think that a parallel deity such as our friend Berith is also a major player on that basis alone' she reasoned. 'The kind of people that can put the hurt on Glory aren't to be taken lightly.'

'No shit' one of the girls affirmed, they'd seen the blond hellbitch in action during her brief spell in Pylea. 'Don't suppose Glory or Illyria know this guy personally?' she asked. 'Met at a Hellgod Mixer back in the Bronze Age maybe?' she joked.

'They say not' Wesley replied seriously. 'Glory was busy running her own dimension back then and Illyria was taking 40 billion winks in the Deeper Well.'

'I've tried to contact Astarte on the spirit plane for guidance but no luck as yet' Willow interjected.

'Who?' Buffy asked.

'Astarte' Willow replied, 'Another of the Phoenician Pantheon and also one of the goddesses called upon by the Wicca' she explained. 'She _would_ know Berith and might be willing to answer some questions seeing as how I'm kinda one of her followers.'

'I thought you prayed to Hecate?' Buffy queried.

'Pays to hedge your bets' Willow replied with a smile.

'There's a transit of Venus on June 8th, first since 1882 I believe' Wesley remarked. 'If Berith hasn't shown up by then you might be able to contact Astarte then' he suggested. 'Astarte, Aphrodite and the Roman Goddess Venus herself were all associated with that planet, in fact it's likely they're just different names for her' he noted. 'The astrological alignment might improve reception as it were.'

Willow frowned and looked at him. 'How _do_ you watchers get to know all this stuff?' she queried.

'We read a lot' Wesley replied with a shrug.

'Who won Gold in Synchronised Swimming at the 2000 Olympics' Willow asked randomly in an inquisitorial manner, looking him straight in the eyes as she did so.

Wesley looked at her very strangely. 'Russia' he eventually answered.

'Unbelievable' Willow said throwing up her hands. 'Sorry just ignore me' she told Buffy who was also now giving her a look.

'What hardware we bringing?' one of the girls asked.

'They've shipped a good selection from the armoury to Cleveland already so you should be at least as well furnished with equipment as you were in Pylea' Wesley told them. 'We're not sure how well the standard scythes or enchanted swords will work given that as I'm sure you've already heard, Berith can transmute other metals to gold, but that should not effect our rifle and pistol ammunition in one regard in that lead is already soft and dense to start with so changing it to gold once fired would have a limited effect in terms of kinetic transfer' he noted. '_However_ our M995 armour-piercing ammunition would of course be rendered much less effective if its tungsten core was changed to something far more malleable before, or at the point of, impact.'

'Better hope the dude don't wear a flak jacket then' one of the girls joked.

'Or that he doesn't have skin like the Blue Meanie' Rona observed, 'or that funky leather armour she wears.'

'If we can't shoot him, we scythe him or stick a fireball up his ass' Buffy declared. 'In any case the main reason we have for bringing you gun-nuts along is to keep any followers he might bring along with him off _my_ ass if I have to introduce him to the custom scythe.'

'We're _not_ gun-nuts' one of the girls protested.

'What kind of bullets does your rifle fire?' Buffy threw back.

'62 grain 5.56x45mm SS109 NATO ball' the girl answered instantly. 'Damn' she added after a short pause. 'I've been brainwashed.'

Wesley chuckled. 'If you want I can have the whole lot of them thinking they're a chicken by counting down from three and snapping my fingers' he joked.

'Save it for the next talent show' Buffy replied. 'We need something to give your girlfriend and her time stopping trick some competition.'

'I was going to juggle fireballs' Willow confided.

**Flight Number CO 514 (LAX – Cleveland Hopkins) – May 2004**

Glory was looking out of the window. 'I can't believe how slow this thing goes' she complained. 'I could get out and run faster than this' she declared.

'It's not even supersonic' Illyria agreed, trying to concentrate on her airline meal and not on the fact she was trapped in an aluminium tube. At least she was in First Class and not as confined as the girls travelling coach further back in the plane.

'Does that taste as bad as it looks?' Glory asked, indicating the tray in front of Illyria.

The God-King looked around to make sure nobody was watching and then broke off a piece of the tray and stuck it in her mouth. The sound of splintering plastic as she chewed caused Wesley sat to her other side to look up from his book and frown as she swallowed. 'It's the only appetising thing there' she told him breaking off another piece as he rolled his eyes and went back to his novel.

'I miss teleportation' Glory said with a sigh.

'Me too' Illyria agreed. 'I used to be able to do it back in my original form.'

'You can still portal' the Hellgod noted.

'Uses too much power' the God-King replied. 'If you only want to move around in one realm teleportation is far more efficient. Even the witch can do it' she continued popping the plastic into her mouth.

'You know what else I miss?' Glory said, 'minions.'

Illyria swallowed her second mouthful of plastic tray and nodded. 'I used to have some truly first-class minions' she said sadly.

Buffy stuck her head over the top of the seat directly in front and looked at them. 'You've _got_ to be kidding' she said looking from one to the other. 'Is this some sort of bonding session? Former tyrants anonymous?' she asked sardonically.

'Mortals' Glory said shaking her head.

'No idea whatsoever' Illyria agreed.

Buffy rolled her eyes and dropped back into her chair, Faith sat beside her was wearing headphones and moving in time to what she guessed was some truly appalling music as she picked up her magazine again. They were fortunate that most of first class was empty because anyone listening in wouldn't know what to think.

'Feeling nervous' Glory asked Illyria expectantly.

'Hoping to get the opportunity to forcibly restrain me without the prospect of being scythed on landing?' Illyria asked wryly.

'Yes' Glory admitted.

'I am not close to the point of irrationally as yet' Illyria told her. If anything the conversation was taking her mind off things though she wasn't about to let Glory know that.

'Damn' Glory replied. 'Not going to drag scruffy there to the toilet and join the Mile-High Club?' she asked after a pause.

Wesley looked up with interest.

'An even more enclosed space is the last thing I need' Illyria replied.

Wesley sighed and went back to his book.

'It was worth a try even if the thought of another deity coupling with a mortal is revolting' Glory said.

'I do still have one worthy minion and I could always order _her_ to perform a "revolting" act with my consort' Illyria noted.

Wesley's eyes widened and Buffy's head appeared over the top of the seat in front again. This was interesting stuff now she thought.

'_Please_ tell me that's some kind of primordial demon joke' Glory responded nervously.

'I saw you drag that mercenary away with you after your performance of that puerile song and dance routine in Pylea' Illyria told her. 'Do not pretend that the entire concept is an anathema to you.'

'I did _not_ have sex with that… thing' Glory responded.

Illyria smirked. 'I know' she said. 'The next morning I confronted him and told him that since you were my property I would be in my rights to kill him for coupling with you without my permission' she said. 'After he decided I was being serious he told me the whole story, turned you down didn't he?'

Glory snarled. 'Who was he to reject _me_?' she asked angrily. 'I nearly ripped him in half for his temerity' she said, failing to add that what she had actually done was pleaded to no avail. She was certainly not drinking again, it completely addled her mind and made the most abhorrent actions seem pretty appealing.

'You were drunk, he's got principles on things like that, that's how Jailbait got her nickname' Wesley interrupted. 'If you'd been sober, or maybe a little _less_ drunk I sincerely doubt he would have done so' he continued. 'Ashton carries quite the torch as I'm sure you realise.'

'Well of course he does' Glory responded conceitedly. 'I've seen myself in the mirror.'

Buffy snorted and dropped back into her chair again. 'Maybe the problem was _he_ wasn't drunk enough' she said.

Glory wondered what Illyria would do if she punched through the back of the chair and on through the girl and decided it wasn't worth finding out. 'And when was the last time you had a guy pining after _you_ slayer?' she said to Buffy instead. 'One with a pulse I mean' she added.

'Hey Macarena' Buffy responded with a grin causing Glory to go bright red despite herself. One day she swore she was going to destroy every copy of that damn DVD. What if it somehow ended up back in her home Dimension? She'd never be taken seriously again.

'You know the mercenary even went so far as to ask me how one handles a relationship with a higher power' Wesley remarked. 'I told him I didn't think that personality wise you and Illyria were similar enough for any advice I could give to be valid.'

'He wants a _relationship_?' Glory blurted out.

'No I can't quite figure that one out either' Wesley replied. 'I can certainly see the surface attraction but after that… well you don't exactly have Illyria's depths.'

'Are you calling me shallow?' Glory responded, glaring at him.

'Well if he's not I will' Buffy interjected.

'You mortals are just incapable of comprehending how deep I truly am' Glory declared and then looked to Illyria for support.

'No I think you're shallow too' Illyria told her. 'All you want to do is look good, and eventually go home and rule a dimension full of sycophants telling you constantly how wonderful you are and how good you look' she observed. 'Your concept of self-worth is entirely based around the veneration and worship of others' she said. 'There is nothing less appealing than an insecure deity.'

Glory pouted. 'You said you missed having minions too' she pointed out.

'Not merely in order to have them kiss my blue ass twenty-four seven' Illyria replied, causing Buffy to start laughing. 'I wanted obedience and worship so they'd do what I wanted _not_ because I needed the ego-boost.'

'Plenty of ego already' Buffy said causing Illyria to wonder what Wesley would do if she punched through the back of the chair and on through the girl and decided it wasn't worth finding out.

Glory crossed her arms. 'This Berith guy had better be worth beating up' she said. 'I've got this really strong desire to kick the shit out of something.'

'I am having a clearly positive influence on Glorificus' Illyria told Wesley with a smile.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – May 2004**

'Welcome to the Hellmouth' Kennedy greeted Buffy with a smile as she opened the door. 'You too Faith' she added to the other girl stood next to her.

'Almost makes me homesick' Buffy replied stepping on through into the apartment which was already half full of slayers before she entered leading the others in.

Faith looked around. 'Nice place' she said. 'B we need to have words about my room at the Hotel' she added.

'Hi Ken' Rona said stepping forward and gave her a quick hug before Amanda took her place.

'Pity we haven't got Vi and Molly here too' Kennedy said.

'You're entirely too young to be getting nostalgic' Wesley told them.

'And you're also standing in the way' Glory added.

Kennedy looked from Wesley to the Hellgod. 'We don't usually tolerate her type around here' she told him. 'And if she gets up to her old tricks I haven't got to try out my scythe on something really worth it yet' she added. 'Stephen taken Illyria out to the wide open spaces?' she asked.

Wesley nodded as he entered the apartment leading the other girls with him. 'She was getting tetchy' he said.

'So these are the famous Pylean Gunslayers?' Kennedy asked.

'We prefer "infamous" gunslayers' the first of them responded. 'Where's our gear?' she asked.

'Pile of crates down there' Kennedy told her.

'Permission to gear up Sir' the girl asked Wesley.

'Go ahead' he replied and they started to troop past him ignoring the looks directed their way by the other slayers already there. They were used to being looked at funny, their reputation apparently preceded them which they thought was for the good, most of them were starting to revel in their status as being mad, bad and dangerous to know and a good number played up to it too.

'Look's like they have it tough here' one of them observed to the others. 'Nice apartment, hot and cold running water, no MRE's' she continued. 'Really lives up to the name "hell" don't it' she said sarcastically.

'Yeah, ship 'em to a hell dimension, teach 'em what the word really means' another replied as they closed in on the crates and dropped their bags to the floor. 'Wish Rika was here with that cannon of hers' she said.

'Jailbait just wishes the merc was here ain't that right Char?' another joked.

'I'm going to get in his pants if it's the last thing I do' Charlotte replied with a grin. She had long since decided to accept the jokes, it was a lot easier to go along with it than blush or bite back. 'You know I think Vi has a thing for Silent Bob.'

'Can you imagine how tall their kids would be?' one said reaching down to open a crate of rifles which she started passing out.

'Or how well they'd shoot?' Charlotte added. 'Seven foot tall redheads that could blow the balls off a mosquito at twelve hundred yards and speak eight languages.'

'Don't mention it to Illyria, or she'll be thinking about breeding programs again' Wesley told them walking over. 'She's talked about it before.'

Kennedy's cell phone went off and she answered it. 'Clear the centre of the room' she said and everyone stepped aside. 'Go ahead' she said into the phone and immediately a flash of bright light made everyone blink as willow teleported in laden with various items.

'Some help' Willow requested as she started to tip backwards with the weight of the canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Kennedy dived in and balanced her before taking the bag off her. 'Faith's Rona's and Amanda's scythes in the bag' Willow told her. 'Buffy this is yours' she said handing over the original.

'Where's the plastic one?' Kennedy asked, she was dying to see it.

'Other bag' Willow told her. 'It doesn't weigh a third of what the others do' she said unhooking it from her other shoulder. 'Can't put it in with the other's they might scratch it.'

'You can _scratch_ it?' Kennedy responded in surprise.

'Only with one of the regular scythes' Willow reassured her. 'Wesley this is yours' she said handing him a satchel.

'Thank you' he replied taking off his jacket and then taking his double shoulder-holster rig with his twin automatics in it from the satchel and putting it on. 'It doesn't feel right not wearing them' he said happily as he tightened the straps.

'So everyone else is staying in LA?' Kennedy asked. 'I thought you might bring Connor or one of the vampires along too.'

'Best to have something in reserve just in case' Buffy told her letting the power of the scythe flow through her. 'If Wolfram Hart decide to cause trouble back in LA Angel, Spike and Connor should be able to put the hurt on them' she continued.

'Surprised Giles isn't here' Kennedy opined.

'Already got two watchers here with Stephen and now Wesley and besides which he's got a date' she added, 'some waitress he's been seeing.'

'Restaurant Manager' Faith interrupted. 'He nearly bit my head off for calling her a waitress.'

'Nothing wrong with being a waitress' Buffy said. 'I was a waitress for a while.'

'You also flipped burgers at the Doublemeat Palace' Willow pointed out.

'I got promoted to work on the tills serving customers' Buffy protested.

'Oh yeah, you were a high flyer there B' Faith joked.

'I run a multi-million dollar international and inter-_dimensional _operation with hundreds of staff what's your career highlight Faith?' Buffy asked smugly.

Faith blinked. 'Sometimes I deputise for you' she said eventually.

'I ran an entire plane of existence' Glory pointed out. 'Don't get ideas above your station' she told Buffy.

'And now you're the bitch of the girlfriend of the scruffy English guy with the drink problem stood over there' Buffy retorted. 'How the mighty have fallen' she added sarcastically.

'I get no respect' Glory moaned.

'Stop feeling sorry for yourself and _earn_ some' Buffy advised. 'You're supposed to be a God so act like one instead of being a whiney bitch' she told her.

'You've got no idea what it's like being stuck here like this' Glory told her.

'Bullshit' Buffy retorted. 'I was dragged out of paradise and bought back here' she said. 'Every day was a fucking nightmare but I got over it because I've got willpower and self-dignity' she said. 'Life is hard and then you die' she said, 'or maybe _you_ don't, but one way or the other _grow up_.'

Glory was rendered utterly speechless as a few of the girls cheered.

'Harsh' Faith observed. 'True' she added, 'but harsh' she said. 'Is there a decent bar around here?' she asked Kennedy.

'How would I know I'm under twenty-one' Kennedy responded.

'Oh yeah like that's an issue with the high quality fake ID's we give out' Faith replied.

'End of the block turn left, first one you come to' Kennedy told her.

'Come on Blondie, let's get a drink and I'll tell you about my evil past' Faith told Glory.

'I'd given up drinking' Glory replied.

'Shit girl I do that every time I wake up with a hangover' Faith told her. 'Hey Wes tell your chick when she gets here that I've borrowed her slave.'

'Will do' Wesley called back. 'Don't lose her they're hard to get.'

'Depends on how much she's had to drink from what I've heard' Buffy said.

'At least I draw the line at necrophilia vampire-_layer_' Glory snapped back.

'Oh there's _definitely_ hope for you' Faith told the Hellgod appreciatively.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This Fanfic runs on reviews._


	26. Chapter 26

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – May 2004**

Kennedy held the scythe outstretched in her hand and couldn't help but giggle. 'It's like a kids toy' she declared before handing the Kevlar bladed and Carbon Fibre shafted weapon back to Buffy. 'I'd feel silly taking that into a fight' she said. 'It would be like giving Vi a water pistol full of Holy Water, it might work but you'd still feel stupid.'

Buffy grinned and passed the thing onto Shannon who had reached out to try handling it herself. 'It'll never replace Old Faithful' she agreed indicating the original scythe which was now being passed around the other girls, each taking it in turn to feel the power flowing through the thing. The entire place was filled to the brim with slayers although the majority would be staying elsewhere sectioned, off to apartments temporarily rented across the city to minimise response time once things got interesting.

'I prefer my 2.1' Kennedy declared. 'Sharper, tougher, better handling…'

'Feels like your girlfriend in more ways than one then' Rona interrupted with a grin. 'Hey I like _my_ 2.1 as well' she told Kennedy who had thrown her a look. 'A twenty-First Century Scythe for a Twenty-First Century Slayer' she added, getting a thumbs-up from Amanda.

'Mine's a classic, you've got the mass-produced model' Buffy retorted.

'Better a gleaming 2004 Ford than a rusty 1920's Rolls Royce' Amanda teased.

'And available in any colour' Willow interjected. 'As long as it's red' she joked. 'I don't think Medousa likes the new scythes much either, they're kinda soulless even if they do have the Rosenberg vibe' she opined.

'They slice, they dice and they stake and they do it better than the original' Kennedy responded.

Buffy crossed her arms. 'Well I'm glad you like your cheap imitations but they'll never have the history.'

'Luddite' Rona said, pretending to cough.

'I am _not_ a luddite' Buffy protested.

'You carry a scythe that pre-dates the Roman Empire and you still prefer a crossbow over a gun' Kennedy noted. 'No offence Boss but get with the Industrial Revolution.'

'Buffy as the conservative traditionalist hanging onto the old ways like some fossilised member of the Watchers Council' Wesley remarked wandering over from where he had been talking to the girls who had returned with him from Pylea. 'Never would have put you in the same category as my father but…'

'Don't go there Wes' Buffy warned him.

'Yeah we were just joshing her but you had to take it too far' Willow told him, trying not to laugh.

Wesley chuckled. 'Alright I admit it, comparing you to my father was beyond the bounds of good taste' he admitted. 'So you won't be going for a tweed mini-skirt this season then?' he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

'Just because your groupies over there laugh at your jokes don't go deluding yourself you're funny Wesley' Buffy told him looking over to the small group of gunslayers who were sat on the floor stripping down and cleaning rifles and periodically laughing at something one or another of them said. They were very clannish and weren't associating with the other girls much at all.

The watcher shrugged. 'I have my brief moments of comedy genius' he said. 'Thinking of jokes do you want to hear a gunslayer joke one of the girls told me?' he asked, taking a drink from the can of soda in his hand.

Buffy nodded. 'Fire away' she told him. 'And I don't mean that literally Dillinger Junior' she added.

Wesley ignored the nickname. 'So there's a legion of demons in trenches and bunkers' he said, 'and they're being besieged by some gunslayers' Wesley continued. 'Well during a lull in the fighting one of the girls yells across to them "one gunslayer is worth ten demons" and of course they're not taking that lying down so ten demons yell a battle cry and charge where the girl is calling out from' he said. 'A few seconds later the rest of the demons hear a whole load of shooting and screaming which stops suddenly and after a pause the same girl yells out again, saying that "one gunslayer is worth a _hundred_ demons", so this time a full hundred of the monsters charge at her and once again after a few seconds the shooting and screaming starts, it goes on a really long time because there are so many of them but eventually everything goes quiet once more.'

Wesley took another drink from his can, it seemed like everyone in the room was listening in by now waiting to hear the punchline. 'Five minutes later a demon comes crawling back to his own lines, he's bleeding from a dozen wounds, barely conscious and taking his last few breaths' the watcher continued, half turning towards the Pylean veterans. 'He half falls back into a friendly trench and collapsing to his knees and gasping for breath reaches out and grabs one of his comrades. "It's a trap" he says…'

'There were _two_ of them' the entire gunslayer contingent said simultaneously before breaking out into laughter, setting off several others.

'Could they _be_ any more gung-ho?' Buffy asked half-seriously after the laughter died down.

'Yes but don't worry I'll be working on that' Wesley told her. 'Incidentally they've been asking about getting their bayonets enchanted.'

'I'll add it to Medousa's to-do list' Buffy told him.

Willow snapped her fingers. 'That reminds me' she said, 'the enchanted weapons thing I mean' she continued. 'I've still got to collect Illyria's swords' she said with a grimace. 'Even one at a time and using some magic to help I can barely pick them up to teleport with them.'

'At least she didn't ask to bring her old one' Wesley noted. 'It weighs as much as a small car.'

'It's being shipped here by truck' Buffy told him. 'If Berith is the size Amalfi was we might need it' she said. 'Even if he _did_ turn it to gold it would make a great club.'

'And if nothing else just think what it would be worth afterwards' Wesley noted, 'that's a lot of gold at getting on for four hundred dollars a troy ounce.'

'Something for the retirement fund' Buffy noted.

'I'm getting an inheritance myself but I'd like some play money to be getting on with in the mean time' Kennedy said.

'I already get paid more than my Dad' Amanda responded.

'Different upbringing' Kennedy admitted with a shrug. 'They don't pay me an allowance any more and I wasn't that careful in saving it.'

'Aw the poor little rich girl' Rona said, trying not to smirk.

'It wouldn't be so bad if Stephen didn't have a sports car' Kennedy moaned.

'Why'd they cut off your allowance?' Buffy asked curiously.

'Didn't approve of my lifestyle choices' Kennedy replied.

'The slaying thing or the gay thing' Buffy queried.

'Both' Kennedy told her, 'but it's not like either were actually so much of a _choice_.'

The apartment door opened and Stephen stood aside so that Illyria could walk through. She wasn't _really_ a woman in the strictest sense of the word but she looked like it so he automatically held the door for her. After some time outside in the open air Illyria's psychological discomfort resulting from the trip had faded away and the young watcher had ferried her on the rest of the way.

As Wesley greeted Illyria with a kiss Stephen greeted the sight of even more girls than usual filling the place with a sigh that spoke volumes, there was no doubt about it, he was very much a token male in a female dominated organisation.

'So if anyone needs any swords or scythes polished Stephens back' Kennedy said loudly with a smirk on her face.

'Not bloody likely' the young watcher responded.

Buffy raised her eyebrows. 'I'd have bet a hundred bucks you'd have completely broken him in by now' she told Kennedy.

'It took nearly three months to get him to put the toilet seat down' Kennedy replied, 'I'm not sure he's that bright to be honest' she joked.

'I'm just fighting back against matriarchal oppression' Stephen stated.

'Solidarity brother' Wesley responded raising a clenched fist in salute, trying to keep a straight face.

Buffy turned to Illyria. 'I'd have bet a _thousand_ bucks that _you_ would have bought Wesley to heel already.'

'I like him with some spirit left, not too much, just _some_' Illyria replied, giving Wesley a pat on the head.

Wesley grinned. 'Help, help I'm being repressed' he said.

'Bloody peasant' Illyria responded.

**Eastern Plains – Pylea – June 2004**

Thomas Stirling shook his head. 'Never thought I'd get to do something like this' he said as the column of cavalry continued to advance across the plains. With the occupation forces still reeling from the near total annihilation of two legions the Pylean Defence Forces had gone on the offensive and had done so using the fastest means at their disposal.

They weren't really cavalry in the strictest sense, at least they weren't apart from a small number of warhorses captured from Narweks troops and whose riders were carrying long lances, most of them were mounted infantry and wouldn't ride into action merely dismount once they reached their destination and fight on foot, but even so they were proving a nasty surprise to the enemy since the reach of the PDF had gone up immensely once they were able to range out on horseback far beyond the boundaries of the Great Northern Forest which had previously been the sole area of revolt.

Stirling hadn't ridden a horse in a while but he found the knack quickly returned and along with a dozen or so slayers who could also ride, thank God for young girls and their fascination with ponies, he was accompanying a hundred and fifty PDF troopers in a long distance raid to a seaport at the edge of the plains that bordered both part of the forest and the low mountains that a certain Princess had christened the "Cordelian Range".

After they raided the port and burned any supplies there the column would split into three and begin hitting enemy supply lines and villages friendly to the occupation over a wide area. Sebassis's forces would be forced to garrison the latter and also provide guards to the supply wagons putting further strain on the occupations manpower.

The majority of the PDF were still moving on foot but split into small platoons of ten humans and native demons apiece they were continuing the process of raids and ambushes that the gunslayers had started but on a much larger scale with fifty such platoons in the field and more training. Their equipment had just improved also in response to the presence of Wolfram and Hart Mercenaries albeit in small numbers. The purchase of a hundred RPK Light Machine Guns, itself not much more than the AK-47 the PDF were already using but with a longer barrel and a hundred round drum magazine had been logical since it gave the Pylean platoons the ability to pin enemy forces down more effectively, but perhaps more poetically the sale of dragon organs from beasts killed in Pylea had funded the appropriation of the same number of Dragunov SVD Sniper Rifles and plenty of ammunition for them. Once again a Russian design being chosen for ruggedness and simplicities sake as much as low cost. They weren't the best sniper rifles in terms of range and accuracy by any means but they would take abuse and rough handling far better than western designs which was very important here even if they were only being given to those who had demonstrated both the best marksmanship and proper weapons maintenance.

Stirling shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, even at a fairly gentle pace his backside was killing him after a couple of hours on the back of a horse. They would dismount soon to walk the horses and stretch their legs for a while and while he couldn't march like he could in the old days it would still be a blessed relief. The potential prospect of sore legs and feet being overridden by the already very real existence of a sore arse, needless to say the girls were loving it and were only disappointed they weren't going to get the chance to do a proper cavalry charge.

'They're training some horses to get used to the sound of gunfire' one of the girls said. 'Then we could shoot our guns while mounted.'

'That's how my people fought the Zulu' Rika said. 'We would fire a couple of volleys and once they closed gallop back out of spear range while they ran at us on foot, just keep doing that until they wised up or they were all dead.'

'At least you didn't mention all the trouble the British Army had with mounted Boer Commando's' Stirling noted with a smile.

'I was coming to that' Rika told him with a smile. 'Have I mentioned how much I enjoy this job?' she asked rhetorically. 'My ancestors would be proud.'

'I'm one eighth Lakota Sioux' one of the other girls said. 'Ever since I got on this horse I've had this urge to put on war paint and scalp me some palefaces' she joked.

'You're whiter than _I_ am' Rika responded wryly.

'Some of these demons we're going to fight _have_ got hair you could take as a souvenir but they're more like orange faces' another of the girls said.

'I can see the sea up ahead we can't be too far away now' Rika announced.

The slayer who claimed Lakota ancestry took a breath. 'Hoka hey' she said loudly.

'Say what?' another asked.

'Hoka hey' the girl repeated. 'Lakota warcry' she explained, 'It means "It's a good day to die".'

'I thought that was the Klingons' one retorted.

'We got there first before Star Trek' the girl replied with a grin. 'Hoka hey' she said again.

'Hoka hey' Rika repeated loudly.

'Hoka hey' another girl joined in.

Stirling couldn't help but smile, they were on horseback on another world but the banter couldn't help but make him recall what he was doing sixty years earlier this very week sat in the back of a transport plane heading for the coast of occupied France, perhaps this was exactly what I was meant to be doing with my life he wondered, it was certainly turning full circle in a way. 'Hoka hey' he called out at the top of his lungs.

Two hours later as the battle in the town degenerated into a melee as and he fired his antique .455 Webley Service Revolver point blank into the face of a demon Stirling hadn't felt so alive in decades. One of the girls was lying wounded at his feet and the old watcher had stepped in to save her from the monsters that were moving in to finish her off. Stirling was just grateful destiny had given him one last chance to prove he was worth something, given him a chance to make a difference. Retirement be damned he thought as blue blood splashed back over his face and faded red Paratroop Regiment beret, this _was_ what he was meant to do. 'Come on you buggers' he bellowed. 'Come and see how a British Army Para fights' he told them as he snapped open the top-break pistol to reload, hoping the lads that had bought it in 1944 were watching him and knowing if they were they'd be cheering.

The recoil didn't used to hurt his wrist so much when he fired though Stirling thought sadly as he lined up his next shot, bloody arthritis.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – June 2004**

'I'm getting bored' Faith complained.

'Well you didn't think Berith was going to show up at the stroke of midnight June First did you?' Wesley asked with a chuckle as he moved his next piece on the chessboard. He had Stephen on the ropes now he decided looking at the worried expression on the younger watchers face.

'Well I was kinda hoping so yeah' Faith replied. 'There's nothing to do' she moaned. 'Ken nearly had the city all slayed out before the rest of us arrived and if there's any evil ones left they're all hiding.'

'Order in a pizza and put on the telly' Wesley suggested.

'No anchovies' Stephen interjected.

'Nobody asked you what you liked D'Artagnon' Faith retorted.

Stephen looked up from the board, it looked bad anyway. 'You know it's my birthday today right?' he asked.

'Honest?' Faith responded in surprise.

'Yes' Stephen replied. 'Nineteen today' he told her. 'I _was_ going to go back to LA to spend time with Emily but then this Berith thing came up so I'm here getting my arse kicked at chess instead' he continued. 'It's not much compensation for not seeing my girlfriend.'

Faith grinned. 'It ain't like Giles would have let you unwrap _that _present anyway' she joked.

'You're probably right there' Stephen agreed. 'Still would have been nice to spend time with her though.'

'Hey Ken' Faith called out. 'It's D'Artagnon's birthday.'

'I know' Kennedy called back from the kitchen, 'we put everyone's birthday on a calendar so nobody forgets.'

Faith nodded, that was organised, they should do that at the Hyperion too she decided. 'Did you get him a present?' Faith asked.

'The girls bought me a jacket' Stephen replied, 'gave it to me this morning before you got here' he told her. Faith was staying at the same hotel as Wesley and Illyria although not the room next door fortunately, she suspected they'd be noisy at night.

'He needs help choosing his clothes sometimes' Kennedy added, stepping out from her room.

'No I don't' Stephen protested.

'Yes you do' Kennedy told him. 'You keep wearing things you should have thrown out ages ago too.'

'They're more comfortable when they're worn in' Stephen told her. 'And it's not like I ever go out looking as ragged as he does sometimes' he added, indicating Wesley.

Wesley moved his knight, 'Check' he said smugly.

'Damn' Stephen replied, looking at the board intently.

'Thinking about clothes how the crap did Glory persuade your girlfriend to take her shopping for a new wardrobe?' Faith asked.

Wesley scratched an itch behind his ear. 'I believe the successful approach taken was to tell Illyria that she would look like a more valuable and higher-status minion if she was well dressed' he replied. 'I would also argue that Illyria's own boredom played a role, she just wanted to go do something.'

'Aren't the gun-nuts going crazy what with not getting to shoot at anything the last few weeks since they got back from Pylea?' Kennedy asked.

Wesley smiled. 'Another few days and they'll be positively tetchy' he replied. 'For now I think they're still enjoying being back and the undoubted pleasures of take-out food, clubs and the cinema.'

'And the training, they train really hard' Faith noted.

'They _are_ a tad more driven than the average slayer' Wesley agreed. 'Checkmate' he told Stephen responding to the other watchers latest move.

'You're letting the team down losing to the LA crowd' Kennedy told Stephen.

'Sorry' Stephen apologised. 'Should I fall on my sword?' he asked.

'Not until we find someone to replace you' Kennedy replied.

'Fair enough' Stephen agreed. 'So are you going to order that Pizza?' he asked Faith. 'If you call the one on the speed-dial we might get extra toppings because Shannon's boyfriend works for them and anyhow we're good customers.'

'B and Willow should be back soon' Faith noted, 'I'd better order one for them too' she said reaching for the telephone. Buffy and Willow had been out trying to see if the witch could pick up any Berith vibes but so far nothing apparently, according to the last time the called to check in.

'You know you could easily describe this job as being tedium punctuated by moments of sheer terror' Wesley observed.

'I'm thinking about taking up a hobby' Kennedy admitted, 'maybe writing.'

'If it's autobiographical and there's plenty of graphic X-Rated love scenes I'll buy a copy' Stephen responded quickly.

'Me too' Wesley agreed.

'Makes that three' Faith added. 'What?' she asked as everyone looked at her. 'A girl can't be curious?' she asked with a grin as she hit the speed dial.

'I'm sure this count's as sexual harassment' Kennedy responded, feigning seriousness.

'You know if the scenes were graphic enough sales might provide that play money you were talking about before' Wesley suggested.

'I'll use a pen name' Kennedy decided after a moments thought.

'Need a proof reader?' Stephen offered, either magnanimously or lasciviously depending on how you looked at it.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_Sorry only the one chapter this week. I had problems with my PC._

_This Fanfic runs on reviews, my internet access runs less reliably on electricity ;-)_


	27. Chapter 27

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – June 2004**

Angel leaned back in his chair opening a book and couldn't help but smile, okay so there was something really nasty and possibly apocalyptic going down, but that was over in Cleveland while the Hyperion hadn't been this quiet in over a year. There were still plenty of slayers around but nowhere near as many as normal and all the ones most likely to bug him were thousands of miles away. Peace and quiet reigned and all was right with the world, well except for the possible apocalypse but when you've seen one you've seen them all he reasoned flipping to the page he'd been on when he left it last time.

Of course there was always one fly in the ointment, Angel remembered as Spike stuck his head around the door. 'Have you seen the Knibblet?' Spike asked.

'You mean Dawn?' Angel responded.

Spike rolled his eyes. 'Of course I bloody well mean Dawn' he replied.

'Then why not use her real name not one of those stupid nicknames you hang on everyone?' Angel asked.

'Why are you such a pedantic bastard?' Spike asked. 'Everyone knows the nicknames I use for people' he continued. 'If I ever ask someone "where's the wanker" they always point me in your direction' he told him. 'Of course that works whether they know that's what I call you or not' he added with a smirk.

'Piss off Spike' Angel told him and started to read.

'Do you know where _Dawn_ is or not?' Spike asked.

'I saw her with Connor earlier' Angel told him, eyes still firmly fixed on the page. 'They were going out' he explained. 'Movies I think.'

Spike's eyes narrowed. 'If he take's advantage because Buffy's not here to watch them…' he began.

'My son would _not_ take advantage of Dawn or any other girl' Angel replied angrily, sitting upright in his chair and throwing the book onto his desk.

Spike snorted. 'And what would _you_ have done at his age?' he asked sarcastically.

Angel opened his mouth to snap back a reply, thought about what Spike said and then closed it again. 'Okay fair point' he admitted reluctantly, 'but I was a libertine layabout' he noted. 'At least Connor knows if they slept together both of _us_ would know which has got to prey on his mind at least.'

'He hurts her I hurt him' Spike told Angel.

'_If_ he hurts her' Angel replied seriously, 'you can join the queue because I'll be at the front of the line' he told Spike. 'But he won't' he added. 'They've been seeing each other for what going on six months now?' he asked, 'has she been anything but happy?' he asked then couldn't help but chuckle, 'has _he_ looked anything but increasingly frustrated?'

Spike thought about it then laughed. 'I'll give' he responded. 'But if he starts looking more relaxed, starts doing less exercise and his skin clears up I'll knock his bloody block off' he told the other vampire.

'You'll try' Angel told him. 'He's as fast as we are if not faster, he's got a hell of a good right and he can always run outside into daylight to get away' he pointed out. 'Oh yeah, and for the record, and knowing you give as much of a crap for my opinion as I do yours and as much as it hurts me to say it, I _do_ respect the way you look out for Dawn even if I think sometimes it's only to keep in Buffy's good graces, or maybe to try and get back in her pants' he told him.

Spike thought about that. 'You're right, I _don't_ give a crap about your opinion' he agreed. 'As as for the Knibblet, I looked after her even when Buffy was dead and I didn't have a soul yet, so don't think for a_ second_ I don't really care about her threats of immolation or not' he told him seriously.

Angel raised his hands palm towards Spike. 'I'll take you at your word' he replied.

'Alright next question' Spike said, changing the subject. 'Where's Dru?'

'With Cordy' Angel told him, 'she was rambling on about something and we're trying to figure out if she was seeing a vision, making it up again to piss us off, or actually just yammering on because… well because she's completely nuts.'

'Good luck to the Princess trying to figure that out' Spike responded, 'can't say I could ever tell for sure and I had a lot of practice.'

Angel nodded and then his expression changed into a distinctly evil grin that reminded Spike of the old Angelus days. 'And after talking about Buffy and Drusilla guess who starts her first day on the job as my personal assistant tomorrow?' Angel asked. It seemed the ideal time to give Spikey the "good" news.

If Spike paled it was of course impossible to tell. 'Harmony?' he asked quietly.

'You guessed it' Angel told him happily. 'Worked off her notice at Wolfram and Hart, very professional of her I'd say, and we told them if they dusted her in the meantime we'd retaliate' he explained then reached over to retrieve his book again. 'So now yet _another_ girl you had a dysfunctional relationship with is going to be hanging around' he said. 'Make's you feel good does it?' he asked, 'because it gives me a warm happy glow I haven't felt in a _long_ time.'

Bugger was enjoying this Spike thought. 'Did they warn her about Dana?' he asked.

'Yeah but I don't think she really understood the implications off having the anti-Dru hanging around' Angel replied with a shrug. 'She'll learn fast the first time Dana jumps on her because she didn't like Harmony's body language.'

Spike grimaced. 'That crackpot slayer gives me the creeps' he opined.

Angel nodded. 'It's the way she looks at you, or more like _through_ you' he agreed. 'I'm just glad it's Drusilla she fixated on instead of following me around' he continued. 'Now if Dana stalked _you_ as a hobby now _that_ would be funny' he declared. 'Knox says his portable blood screening gadget is ready so we can test Harmony every day to see if she's been snacking on people' he added.

'Christ, what's one more bloody woman with Spike issues anyway' the vampire observed fatalistically. 'No point in revelling in my misery' he continued, 'that's more your line' he said. 'Care to cheer me up though? Don't suppose there's any trouble between you and Nina that might brighten up my day?' he asked hopefully.

'Sorry to disappoint you but no' Angel told him smugly. It was in fact likely the most normal and uncomplicated relationship he had probably ever been in, which was really weird in itself when you considered he was an ensouled vampire detective dating a werewolf. They had a shared interest in art as well as the smell of blood so that helped, and beyond that it lacked the sheer angst of most of his previous romantic entanglements, as long as it never made him _too_ happy Angel was more than pleased with the turn his love-life had taken. He still occasionally wondered if he might have ever _really_ had a future with Cordelia but when he thought about it in a reasoned manner there was too much risk of the kind of whirlwind, emotional and dynamic relationship with Cordy that made your soul go AWOL. Nina wasn't the love of his life but she was far safer than Cordelia or Buffy. Perfect happiness was to be avoided, 75 happiness was still pretty good and _much_ less risky.

And anyway, Angel thought, at least if word got around he was screwing someone those damn rumours that he was a eunuch might stop.

'So can we expect a litter of puppies any time soon?' Spike asked. 'They say doing it doggie-style is good for conceiving' he added, trying and failing to deliver the line deadpan.

Angel smirked. 'So how often are _you_ getting laid?' he asked.

'Hey I was just having fun but you went too far now' Spike protested. It was a low blow that one, he thought.

'So I suppose Connor's not the only one doing plenty of extra exercise these days then' Angel observed. 'As for me' he continued, 'I think I might be starting to get out of shape' he said. 'Might have to start hitting the gym more.'

'Oh yeah rub it in why don't you' Spike replied.

'Some guys have got it Spike and some aren't getting it' Angel told him triumphantly. This really _was_ a good day, he thought. The fly in the ointment wasn't that big a deal as long as the little bastard was suffering he decided, going back to his book as a dejected looking Spike headed back out the door.

**Great Russell Street – London – June 2004**

Molly blocked the punch and retaliated with a quick jab that connected harder than she planned it to because the girl she was sparring with chose an inopportune moment to move slightly towards her. Inwardly wincing at the crunch under her knuckles Molly felt, as much as watched, the teenagers nose get flattened as it broke with a unpleasant sound and blood started to pour out.

'Oh crap' Molly exclaimed as she broke from the sparring. 'Are you okay?' she asked, knowing it was a stupid bloody question as soon as she said it.

'Du boke my dose' the girl moaned, touching it and wincing at the pain, her eyes were tearing up too.

'It happens sometimes' Molly told her, 'I did pull the punch honest, you just sort of threw your face at my fist' she explained. 'Don't worry once it's reset it'll heal up good as new' she promised. 'Kennedy once broke a girls jaw in training but two days later the girl was right as rain' she told her, exaggerating slightly as it happens, it took more like three and a half.

The new girl Leah fought back the tears, there was no way she was going to allow herself to cry because of getting thumped by a damn Sassenach. She had only just arrived back from basic training in Los Angeles and since she was Scottish once she was considered good enough for the field they had shipped her straight back across the Atlantic to join Molly's European Team.

'I can reset it if you like' Molly offered. 'Done it before, it'll hurt though' she advised, approaching the girl.

Leah nodded and tried not to make a sound as Molly reset her broken nose with a very unpleasant crack followed by a definite cringe

'You beating up on the noobs again?' Natasha asked, walking into the training room as Leah used a handkerchief to stem the flow of blood which was dripping onto the crash-mats.

'She kinda ran at my fist' Molly explained sheepishly.

'Oh yeah' Natasha replied, 'there's a likely story' she continued with a smirk. 'Put in a complaint' she advised Leah. 'It's clearly a racist attack, she don't like the Scotch.'

'We're called "Scots" not Scotch' Leah replied instantly, her voice muffled by the handkerchief and more than slightly distorted by the injury. 'Scotch is a drink and I want one' she added.

'Hey I think you improved her accent' Natasha exclaimed.

'Kiss my arse' Leah responded sharply. She knew her strong brogue made her difficult to follow sometimes but there was no way she was going to let a _Scouser_ criticise what she talked like. They were almost as bad as that abomination of an accent they had in Birmingham, at least there weren't any Brummie slayers yet, thank God for small mercies.

'Ooh she's firey, probably all that red hair' Natasha joked.

'Knock it off or she won't be the only one leaking blood from her nose' Molly told Natasha.

'Getting a taste for duffing up the troops?' Natasha responded with a grin. 'They'll transfer you to Pylea with all the other irredeemably violent ones.'

Molly sighed. 'For the record you only get away with that kind of backchat after you've been the field at least a year' she told Leah. 'But any more of it and I'll pull rank' she said, turning to look at Natasha, 'and hair' she added darkly.

The slayer from Liverpool took the hint. 'I'll be good' Natasha promised. 'Come on I'll see if I can get you a bevvie from the Fridge' she told Leah. 'The boss there caused the mess so I reckon it's fair she cleans it up' she added, indicating the spots of blood on the floor.

Unable to find a decent retort Molly gave up trying and went to fetch something to clean up the blood from the cleaning cupboard. She was back in the training room scrubbing a crash-mat when Roger Wyndham-Pryce came looking for her. 'You know we have people to do that sort of thing' he told her.

'I broke a girl's nose when we were sparring' Molly explained. 'Well they if you broke it you pay for it so I suppose this is the price' she told him, indicating the bucket full of water and detergent.

Wyndham-Pryce nodded. 'I would have thought breaking a slayers nose was rather difficult' he said. 'Your resilience to impact and blunt-force trauma is quite literally legendary.'

Molly shrugged as he finished cleaning the crash-mat hopefully it wouldn't stain. 'It is difficult to break a slayers nose' she replied, 'unless you're another slayer' she continued. 'We're famous for how hard we hit too' she noted reasonably. 'I doubt you could break my nose' she told him. 'Well not without a cricket bat or something.'

'We'll leave that little experiment for another time My Dear' Roger Wyndham-Pryce told her. 'It would go against the grain to hit a young girl in the face anyhow' he continued, 'at least not unless she possessed a pair of bright golden eyes and a set of unusually long pointy teeth' he said with a gentle smile. 'I did once do that, surprisingly hard on the knuckles' he added.

'I could do it all day until mine bled and they'd be fine again the next morning' Molly told him, straightening up. 'Is there something you wanted?' she asked.

Roger Wyndham-Pryce suddenly looked a great deal more uncomfortable. 'Indeed' he told her. 'I don't like to get involved with peoples private lives' he began, 'but I've heard some rumours that I feel duty bound to investigate' he told her.

'Yeah?' Molly queried, wringing out the cloth she had been using into the bucket.

'They concern yourself and that rather strange chap that guards the Deeper Well' he said awkwardly.

'What are people saying?' Molly asked.

The watcher began absent-mindedly playing with his wristwatch. 'Well to be blunt they're saying that you are in some kind of… relationship… with him.'

Molly rolled her eyes. 'Well yeah' she affirmed. 'You wouldn't believe how much effort that took either, he just wouldn't take the bleeding hint.'

'It's _true_?' Wyndham-Pryce exclaimed. 'I was hoping it was idle gossip we could quash' he told her. 'You're just a young girl, we don't even know how old he is' he continued then paused. 'He hasn't… he hasn't taken advantage of you has he' he asked nervously. If he had then as the girls watcher he would feel duty bound to go find the man and give him a damn good trashing.

Molly grinned. 'It was hard enough to get him to kiss me' she replied. 'I think I scare him and _I_ know how old he is' she said, 'I know _loads_ about him, he can't lie. I won't tell you though, I made a promise.'

'But the age gap' Roger Wyndham-Pryce declared. 'My God if he was the age he _appears_ to be he'd be too old for you.'

'And he'll still look that age when I'm sixty' Molly replied. 'Thinking long term I'm on a winner' she joked. 'At least I've gone for an immortal with a _pulse_' she pointed out. 'It's less weird than Buffy's track record' she continued. 'And as for age-gaps you do know how old your sons girlfriend is right?' she asked rhetorically.

The watcher narrowed his eyes. 'Now Molly you know my feelings on _that_ matter' he responded.

'Alright, it was hitting below the belt' Molly admitted, 'but that's not so much an age difference thing as a demon god thing right?' she asked. 'Drogyn's human, he just doesn't age' she said. 'And if you're worried about him "taking advantage" he still lives by the code of chivalry, it's not in him.'

'During the Age of Chivalry, by which I mean Medieval England, the legal marriage age, and therefore the age of consent, was _ten_' Roger Wyndham-Pryce noted.

'And now it's sixteen which is how old _I_ am, nearly seventeen too' Molly responded. 'It's none of your business but I'm not sleeping with Drogyn, we don't even see each other very often, but if I was _that_ wouldn't be anyone's business but _ours_.'

'Not legally perhaps but morally I have a duty to watch over my slayers interests' Wyndam-Pryce told her, then for a brief moment his patrician façade faded. 'Damn it girl I wouldn't want you to get hurt emotionally any more than I would physically' he told her quietly. That one had sneaked up on him insidiously he realised, he was also starting to understand why Rupert Giles had developed his fatherly affection for his charge. For all her brusque working class manner and appalling cockney accent Molly was extremely endearing, it made him wish he had been blessed with a daughter instead of a son. Even the prospect of Wesley carrying on the family name looked remote these days, so his hope for grandchildren that might turn out better than his son was fading fast.

Molly looked slightly taken aback. 'That's sweet' she said eventually, 'but I can look after myself' she told him.

Roger Wyndham-Pryce took a deep breath, straightened up and restored his usual over-formal and stern demeanour. 'Very well if that is your decision so be it' he told her. 'But kindly inform this Drogyn chap that if he ever hurts you in any way I would have absolutely no reservations about taking a cricket bat to _him_' he declared.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – June 2004**

If anybody had worried about whether or not they were going to know when the Lord of the Covenant was about to arrive they need not have bothered. It was hardly the most low-key or subtle entry into our dimension.

Glory was painting her toe-nails, if only because there was nobody to do it for her, when reality seemed to suddenly jump a pace to the left and she nearly lost her breakfast and did lose her balance, falling off the end of the couch where she had perched herself and sending bright red nail varnish all over the floor.

Illyria was more graceful, or perhaps luckier in her stance, because she merely fell against one wall and managed to stay on her feet. None of the slayers felt anything, they weren't remotely as well tune in to the ebb and flow of the universe as the two deities and they just watched in surprise as the Old One and the Hellgod suddenly seemed to have lost their coordination.

'Holy crap' Glory exclaimed. 'I haven't felt something like that since I got yanked out of Ben.'

Illyria quite involuntarily modulated her form from her human Ria persona to her armour, it was a reflex action to what her equivalent subconscious was telling her was imminent harm. 'Do you feel the aura?' she asked Glory who nodded and gave an equally involuntary shudder.

'It's like the vibe I got of the first but put through an amplifier' Glory replied. 'I mean it's a _lot_ like the First.'

Kennedy burst out of her room. 'Willow's freaking out' she yelled, causing a stampede with Buffy at the front of the queue. When she got through the door she found Willow laying on the floor twitching, her hair had turned jet black and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

'Willow' Buffy said loudly. 'Willow' she repeated bending down to take her by the shoulder, squeezing gently.

The witch stopped shaking and her eyes snapped open, they were as black as her hair and she stared almost_ through_, as much as _at_ Buffy. 'It's here' she said.

'No shit' Rona responded.

Willow got off the floor slowly. 'I can feel the Hellmouth seal' she said. 'It's channelling energy to Berith, he's using it to tear a hole between the dimensions and come through in his fully-powered state.'

'How do you know?' Buffy asked.

'It's like the energy the Sunnydale Seal was putting out during the last weeks but at a higher frequency so it's washing over you normal people' Willow replied. 'It's breaking over me like waves on rocks' she continued. 'My Goddess Buffy the power, the _evil_, it's taking everything I have to hold on.'

'Illyria and Glory felt it too' Buffy told her as Kennedy moved next to the witch and took her hand. 'Glory said she feels the First.'

Willow's face momentarily paled and dark veins started to crisscross her cheeks before she gritted her teeth and fought them back by strength of will, her normal colouration returning after a couple of seconds. 'I can sense him too, I think he's helping to channel the energy, he must be inside the Cleveland Hellmouth.'

'Well if I had to guess where he ended up, it would have been the backup Hellmouth' Amanda observed reasonably from her position towards the back of the crowd.

'Didn't think he'd still be working with Wolfram Hart after the Sunnydale fiasco' Buffy opined.

'We are a mutual threat to both of them' Illyria noted. 'An alliance remains a valid and logical conclusion although they do not cooperate well' she said. 'Glory and I can adapt to damp out the dark energies, how is the witch?' she asked.

'I'm starting to get a grip on it' Willow responded. '_Really_ starting to think Berith isn't just getting by on a good Rep.'

'It has been too long since we faced a worthy adversary' Illyria declared. 'A challenge will be good for testing our abilities' she stated.

Willow suddenly froze. 'Oh crap' she exclaimed. 'Where's Wesley?' she asked.

'He went somewhere with Faith' Buffy replied. 'Probably found a sleazy bar where they fit in' she said. 'No offence' she added quickly turning towards Illyria.

'I need to find him _now_' Willow said. 'I mean it.'

'Why?' Kennedy asked her.

'The Magicks, he's tuned in to them too' Willow answered. 'He hasn't got a fraction of my power but he's got even _less_ of my control' she said. 'You remember him in the Hellmouth, he can lose it just like I can.'

'Oh shit that's all we need' Buffy moaned, 'Dark Wes.'

**Alleyway – Cleveland – June 2004**

Faith felt herself flung against the wall hard and then pinned there by some force she couldn't see. She was already bruised from being slammed around and it seemed like he was getting stronger and stronger, she didn't even know he had the kind of power needed for telekinesis, she supposed she was only lucky that when he stopped shaking and got off the ground he hadn't fried her ass with a fireball, those she _knew_ he could do. 'Wes' she yelled at him frantically. 'Get a grip, this isn't you' she told him.

Wesley chuckled and walked over, his jet black eyes fixed on her. 'Or maybe this is the real me let out to play?' he suggested. 'The little Angelus hiding in my subconscious, Christ I feel sorry for him that's a first' he said. 'You know I never truly forgave you for torturing me' he said. 'It's always there at the back of my mind every time I look at you' he told her. 'I imagine that's why doing this is so much fun' he said, crashing her to the ground hard once again then releasing her from his mental hold.

'Faith rose to her feet' don't make me put you down Wes' she told him, painfully shifting into a fighting stance.

'You've got to be bloody joking' Wesley replied with a burst of laughter before slamming her against the wall once more. 'I could break every bone in that gorgeous body of yours and you couldn't so much as lift a finger to stop me' he said with a smirk.

Wesley looked around. 'I've always so wondered what was on the other side of the abyss' he said. 'Stood on the very edge of the precipice so many times but never quite had the motivation, or perhaps the courage, to make the final step' he continued. 'I was a bloody fool' he declared. 'No guilt, no fear, it's wonderful, exhilarating' he told her. 'Was it like this for you during your own sojourn into the dark?' he asked. 'Were you really evil or just badly misguided and looking for someone to look after you and you found Mayor Wilkins?' he continued. 'I always thought you were little girl lost, well except for the affair with the broken glass, that made me fairly convinced at the time you were evil, but I must confess to not being an objective observer.'

'Please Wesley, I know you' Faith told him. 'You're a nice guy who had a fucked up childhood and some shitty breaks' she said. 'Shit Wes I _am_ you.'

Wesley grinned. 'The Stockholm Syndrome works fast these days' he responded. 'Identifying with your captor, how sweet' he told her then once more slammed her against the wall and held her there as he walked over, reaching out to stroke her cheek. 'So what were those torture techniques again?' he asked. 'I've tried out a few on other people myself since I experienced them, but never on the one who actually deserved it.'

'Something is fucking with you Wes' Faith told him. 'Fight it' she begged.

Wesley smiled lasciviously. 'Fucking with me?' he repeated. 'Now _there's_ an idea' he added, running his hand further down her body.

'Oh God no Wes, not like that' Faith begged. 'Not like that.'

Wesley's eyebrows raised. 'Well that's a turn up for the books' he said. 'So how _do_ you want it?' he asked. 'Like the new me do you?' he asked. 'I imagine I am more your type now' he suggested.

'No' Faith told him. 'You're _not_.'

Wesley released Faith from his telekinetic hold and she started to fall forward with him catching her and propping her up, pushing her back physically with one hand so that she was leaning against the wall, the two of them close enough to kiss. 'I suppose I could forgo some torture for something a little sweeter' he said, leaning in.

Faith's knee to his groin changed his opinion on the torture instantly but also rendered him fairly incapable of doing anything about it as he slumped to the ground. Even the magicks require the ability to think straight and although physical Faith's blow prevented him from thinking very much apart from just how much it hurt just right at that moment.

The effect of the blow bought the taste of blood into his mouth and he started coughing as Faith prepared to knock him unconscious. She figured Willow could get his head straight back at the Loft.

Wesley looked up at her as she knelt beside him and readied a fist, she looked into his eyes and watched them start to clear, the blackness swirling away. The pain had broken more than his balls, though he was hoping they only _felt_ that way, it had also broken the hold the dark magicks had on his mind and enabled the real Wesley to get a goddamn grip on himself, as well yet again as the grip he had on his balls. 'I'm sorry' he gasped. 'I'm so sorry' he told her as the pain started to fade away, the tears he was starting to shed not caused by that.

Faith unclenched her fist and stroked his cheek. 'This is my type' she said and leaned in to kiss him.

When Willow teleported in she had a large number of questions, but the first one that crossed her mind was why exactly Wesley was lying on his back on the ground with Faith's tongue down his throat and clearly not trying to do anything to stop it. It was only later that she remembered that for every Guinevere there is, by definition, a Lancelot.

The problem was King Arthur wasn't _remotely_ as dangerous to cross as the God-king of the Primordium Willow decided. It was definitely _not_ the kind of additional trouble you wanted when Wolfram and Hart's best inter-dimensional trouble-shooter was in town.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_Probably gave too many hints to call it a plot twist ;-)_

_This Fanfic runs on reviews..._


	28. Chapter 28

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – June 2004**

'It's just too much' Willow told Buffy apologetically. 'I can't triangulate where it's coming from it's just like a general cloud of… nasty, over the whole city' she explained, leaning back against the closed door inside Kennedy's room. Faith was sitting on the edge of the bed looking very much the worse for wear after being bounced off walls by Wesley and they had only just returned from the scene, Kennedy picking them up in one of their 4x4's.

Buffy nodded as she helped Faith lift her top over her head, wincing as she saw the bruises, Faith was being stoic but she still grimaced at the movement. 'If it makes you feel better I think Wesley's chances for procreation are even lower now than they were before' Buffy joked. 'And we don't think Illyria can have kids' she said.

'No jokes' Faith told her as her top was removed and she outstretched her arms so Buffy could start to bandage up her ribs, it felt like a couple might be cracked. 'If I laugh it'll hurt.'

'I don't know if I can manage not being funny' Buffy told her reaching for the bandage.

'You've done fine the last twenty-odd years' Faith replied. 'I was talking to Willow' she said, forcing a smile. 'Christ that hurts' she moaned as Buffy started wrapping the bandage around her.

'Been trashed by magic myself' Buffy responded ignoring Faith's jibe, Buffy knew she was funny. 'You wouldn't think it was as bad as being punched but it is.'

'Telekinesis is just substituting one type of force for another' Willow noted. 'Newton's laws still apply regardless of what's hitting you, the effects are the same' she explained. 'You were lucky you found he had an Achilles heel' she told Faith.

'His was a couple of feet higher up' Faith joked and regretted it instantly when a short chuckle made her ribs feel like they were in a vice.

'Wish I had that solution to hand when I went up against…' Buffy began then petered off, throwing a sideways glance at Willow.

Willow grinned. 'Even if I _did_ have the equipment, I'm far stronger than Wes when I go dark so I doubt it would have worked so well in my case' she responded.

'I dunno' Faith countered. 'He had a lot more juice going on that I thought he did' she told the witch.

Willow shrugged, 'I think he was punching above his weight because of the aura that's filling this burg' she replied, but even channelling the nasty he's still a_ lot_ weaker than me' she continued. 'To be honest the mojo boost is probably because he's kinda closer to the dark side than I am normally anyway' Willow theorised.

'He ain't evil' Faith snapped back. 'I'll give you ruthless and edgy though' she admitted.

'Surprised you'd defend him' Buffy said, continuing to wrap the bandage around.

'_Wes_ didn't do this to me' Faith said. 'Something hijacked him, I _know_ Wes, he's not sadistic he's more like..'

'Sociopathic?' Buffy suggested. 'He's not _im_moral, he's _a_moral?' she added. He certainly had the ability to cross a line she couldn't with little regret of introspection which although it had proved useful bothered Buffy quite a bit. She didn't know quite how far Wes might be willing to go for the win but it was definitely further than she was, you had to have _some_ boundaries.

'No' Faith responded quickly. 'He knows right and wrong' she stated, 'he's just big-picture, he's more willing to do a little wrong for a big right than most people' she said. 'He feels bad about it but he'd rather do that and suffer inside himself than take the easy option' she said.

Buffy smiled as she finished her work. 'Between you and the gun-nuts it's like he's got a personality cult' she replied half-jokingly. Buffy knew enough about psychology to make her wonder if Faith's childhood played a part in this, she was defending her latest abuser as it were very vociferously, and had been since they arrived back, the two of them unable to make eye contact which wasn't too surprising in the circumstances. Wesley was in Stephen's room with Illyria watching over him, if his eyes turned black again she could subdue him but until then she was fussing over him instead.

Faith tok a deep breath. 'He was going to rape me' she said quietly, looking off into the distance, eyes out of focus as she gazed at the wall. 'That's why he got close enough for me to knee him in the balls' she explained.

'Oh shit' Buffy exclaimed. 'Are you…' she began, then realising how stupid it was to ask if she was alright she instead put her arms around Faith resting her head on her shoulder, trying not to touch any of the bruises. Faith didn't return the hug, she wasn't comfortable with them but all the time she had spent with Dana had at least made her not seek to immediately push Buffy away.

'It wasn't really him' Faith said. 'Not really' she continued. 'I know it wasn't, but my guts are all twisted up.'

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and made a decision before opening them again, she let go of Faith and moved back slightly to look her in the eyes. 'Before Spike got a soul' she said, 'he once tried to rape me' she told Faith, her voice barely over a whisper. 'I've been beaten up so many times but it's _not_ the same' she sympathised.

'But how can you look at him without remembering' Faith asked, her voice trembling.

'I can't' Buffy told her. 'I know it's different now, I know he's got a soul and that without it he wasn't the same person, but knowing and feeling deep-down aren't the same thing' she said. 'There's always this little voice at the back of my head that reminds me what happened.'

'This is fucked-up' Faith declared. 'I got my watcher back, and he cared, and we could talk but now we'll always have this hanging over us' she said. 'Shit, I tortured him and he was going to rape me' she continued, 'that can't be a basis for a healthy watcher/slayer relationship.'

'You weren't exactly the typical watcher and slayer to start with' Buffy couldn't help but point out.

'That's why we got on so well' Faith replied. 'Wes said he liked spending time with me because I was just right.'

'Yeah?' Buffy queried.

'You know, like Goldilocks and the Three Bears' Faith explained, 'yeah I know it sounds stupid but like the porridge you know, not too hot or too cold' she said, 'but more like not too evil or not evil enough. He said I was _just_ right.'

'Were you both drunk when this sounded sane?' Buffy asked.

Faith smiled. 'Not yet but we were heading that way' she replied, her smile disappearing again fast. 'It was nice to have someone to go out with and talk to about random shit.'

Buffy tried not to roll her eyes. Wesley had gone evil and tried to rape her but Faith was worried about losing her drinking buddy. 'You're worried you can't forgive him?'

'I'm worried he won't be able to forgive himself more' Faith responded. 'He's wrapped up even tighter than_ I_ am on the emotional shit' she said. 'Fuck B why can't things that are going good stay the fucking way they are?' she asked rhetorically. 'This was probably the best time of my life' she moaned.

Buffy sighed. 'To quote an undead poet of my acquaintance, "life isn't bliss, life is just this".'

Faith nodded. 'Okay, well at least if I put it into perspective this shit won't even make my top ten fucked-up memories' she joked, trying to force a smile.

'Don't make light of it Faith' Buffy told her. 'It's not the best time for you to break down but after we've dealt with Berith take my advice and let it all out' she advised. 'I'll ask Illyria if you can borrow Glory' she offered. 'Best punching bag for letting off steam ever invented.'

'You just like to watch people hit her' Willow interjected.

'I'm not going to deny it' Buffy responded. 'Alright Faith, you know I need you to suck it up for now but if we live through the month and you break the habit of a lifetime and need a shoulder to cry on… find someone else because I still don't like you very much.'

Faith grinned. 'Thank God for that' she replied. 'I need _some_ continuity in my life' she said. 'Go sort out the girls' she advised. 'I'll be okay and you've got bigger fish to fry' she told her.

Buffy gave Faith another largely unwelcome, but fortunately short-duration hug, and Willow stepped aside to let her open the door. 'I'll just see if I can speed up her healing maybe' Willow told Buffy who nodded as she left the room, Willow closing the door behind her again.

Faith looked up at Willow who took a seat beside her. 'Thanks for not saying anything' she said. 'Too weird already' Faith told her.

Willow frowned. 'It's not some freaky sado-masochistic thing is it?' she asked. 'Because that would just be creepy.'

Faith shook her head. 'You saw us kissing, he was kissing me back right? It wasn't just me?' she asked.

'Looked mutual' Willow agreed. 'You haven't been…' she began. 'I mean not behind Illyria's back when you've been supposed to be propping up bars together?'

'No' Faith denied. 'I just wanted to let him know it was alright… and that I cared so I kissed him.'

'Cared?' Willow queried.

Faith looked uncomfortable, and not because of her injuries. 'It sneaked up on me' she said. 'I just saw him differently one day, I thought I was getting too old for a fucking crush' she said sadly. 'I never said anything, he's got Illyria and I reckon he loves her, not that I'm an expert on that stuff, and anyhow I cut on him, how could he ever really forget that? He can't, just like I can't forget what he tried to do to me now' she continued, almost spewing the words out. 'But he kissed me _back_, you said so' Faith continued, her voice trailing off back to a whisper.

'Maybe he feels something for you too, or maybe his emotions are just as messed up in the circumstances as yours are' Willow responded, 'but if you want _certainty_ then Wes belongs to Illyria, at least that's how she sees it, and anyone that tried to take him away wouldn't like her response' she advised. 'This isn't bullshit Faith' Willow told her, swearing for effect. 'She would _kill_ you.'

'I've got my scythe' Faith noted.

'So you'd kill _her_ to steal her boyfriend?' Willow asked. 'Oh yeah, _that_ would start you and Wes off on the right foot' she said sardonically. 'I've been in a triangle, they don't end well even _without_ the prospect of homicide hanging over them' she stated. 'Someone's heart gets broken, and in this case maybe ripped out because we've all seen her do stuff like that before and that was to people that _hadn't_ pissed her off.'

'She doesn't scare me' Faith declared.

'Then you really _are_ insane' Willow retorted. 'I'm the only one around here, except maybe Glory on a good day, that would even_ dream_ about going up against the Blue Meanie and not be pretty certain I was going to get smacked down in a few seconds if she was serious about the fight. She doesn't even have much of a conscience to hold her back, Wes is her Jiminy Cricket and in this situation he's kinda outta play.'

Faith knew she was right but Wes _kissed her back_, Willow said so herself, she _wasn't _just imagining it. He must want her too, maybe he didn't love Illyria, she wasn't even human right? Just a love-sick skinny demon with someone else's memories, she thought then felt bad about it. Despite it all Illyria _was_ a person, she clearly had feelings of her own not just Fred's, she had a different unique personality, a definite sense of humour, she even seemed to be able to care about people independently of her shell's imprints hence the fact that she was fond of Anya. Faith _liked_ Illyria, sometimes she drove her nuts, and the incident with being turned into a puppet wasn't ever going to be forgiven, but she didn't want to steal a friends guy from her, that was something the old Faith would have done in a heartbeat, but she wasn't that person any more, or at least she hoped she wasn't.

Willow smiled. 'If you're lucky one of the points in the triangle might die and save you all a lot of angst and trouble' she said.

'But what if it's Wes?' Faith asked.

'Then you and Illyria might find you could be very happy together' Willow replied deadpan. 'Hey don't knock it till you've tried it' she said, indicating a picture of her and Kennedy together that was sitting nearby.

'Red the only thing about me that _isn't_ confused is my sexuality' Faith replied. 'I like _some_ grounding at least.'

'So Wesley's chances for a three-way aren't too high?' Willow responded, trying not to blush at the risqué humour.

Faith chuckled. 'I don't know how much better the new Faith is, but the latest model Willow is more fun than she used to be' she said.

'Just remember that like Buffy I still don't like you very much' Willow responded. 'But if you can go another couple of years without killing or beating up one of my friends I might start to review my position on that.'

'Harsh but fair' Faith agreed.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – June 2004**

'We put enough tranquilliser into Drusilla to knock-out a Rhino but she was still moaning so we gave her a shot of Orpheus to top it off' Spike said. 'She's in a happy place now' he added, dropping into the chair in front of Angel's desk.

Angel nodded. 'Giles just off the telephone to that Coven he's got connections with back in England' he told him. 'Their exact words were "what the bloody hell was that and were you responsible?" he says.'

Cordelia walked in holding a glass of cold water to her forehead. 'I guess when they Powers-That-Be pulled the plug on my visions they jus stopped transmitting because trust me the receivers working fine' she said. 'I nearly got all nostalgic when it hit me.'

'You got a vision?' Spike asked in surprise.

'No just the pain I used to get with them' Cordelia replied. 'God knows what it would have felt like if I wasn't two thousand miles away' she continued. 'Heard anything more about Wes?' she asked.

Angel shook his head. 'Talked to one of the girls in Cleveland, Shannon I think it was, he's okay but he beat up on Faith pretty bad before she broke the hold the magicks had over him.'

'Plus his balls of course' Spike interjected. 'Poor bastard.'

'Well you've got to give Berith his due' Cordelia said. 'He's got wattage' she said. 'I wonder if they picked him up in China?'

'Not Wolfram and Hart's usual smooth technique' Angel opined. 'They usually slip in and out of our dimension quick and clean, they don't set off psychic alarm bells over most of the planet.

'It's not normally a _god_ coming through' Spike pointed out, 'but I'll give you this, it's definitely power over technique to my way of thinking' he said. 'Wish I was there as back-up, wouldn't want Buffy to lose any more teeth tangling with a Hellgod.'

Angel crossed his arms. 'It's out of our league Spike you know that' he said. 'Buffy's got scythes, gods and big guns if they can't handle it what make's you think we'd do any better?'

'Willpower' Spike responded. 'Don't underestimate what you can achieve by simply not giving up, if you meet something stronger or meaner out-_endure_ the bastard. Those girls may be a bit stronger than us, and they might have the toys, but do you really think they can take the pain, I mean _really_ take it?'

'Maybe not but I bet _Illyria_ can' Angel opined.

'Well that's cheating' Spike responded. 'I think she gets _off_ on it' he said. 'It's like the joke about the sadist and the masochist, the masochist says "beat me" and the sadist says "no".'

'Painkillers starting to kick in' Cordelia said gratefully. 'I guess I lost my resistance to them because it used to take more than that to get rid of the psychic migraines' she explained. 'You know Berith has probably flipped the switch on every magic user and psychic on the planet.'

'Likes the big showy entrance like one of those insecure types that has to open both sides of double doors when he comes through them to prove he's in charge' Spike suggested. 'It's the quiet one's you have to worry about' he continued. 'They're far more dangerous, like that git I got to torture you with the hot pokers that time, polite well spoken inoffensive sods, now_ they're_ scary.'

'Marcus' Angel responded. 'His name was Marcus.'

'I knew you'd remember' Spike told him, 'better with names than me.'

'I remember the red hot pokers going in pretty well' Angel replied, glaring at Spike.

Spike shrugged. 'Should have got a videotape made of that' he said regretfully. 'I still can't believe you destroyed the ring though, you must have been barmy.'

'I still had too much to atone for' Angel replied. 'I've got a mission.'

'You've got a self-esteem problem is what you've got' Spike retorted. 'If I had that ring, now I'm all good and souly I mean, imagine the good I could do' he said. 'I could get a tan, go to watch cricket and the footy again, have an excuse to wear cool shades.'

'And that would be doing_ good_ would it Spike?' Cordelia asked sarcastically.

'It would be good for me love' Spike replied. 'And I'd fight evil in my spare time, "Super-Spike" the vampire that can't be staked and walks in the light' he said. 'A daywalker like Blade in those films but without the bad hair.'

'No, just _your_ bad hair' Angel responded.

'There's nothing wrong with my hair, it's a classic look' Spike responded defensively. 'You wait it'll come back into fashion soon enough.'

'So you think you're a trend-setter as well as looking retro?' Cordelia asked, 'because you're wrong on _both_ counts.'

Spike opened his mouth to respond but Angel raised a hand to stop him. 'Don't try and argue on this subject with Cordy' he warned. 'You're hopelessly outclassed.'

Cordelia nodded seriously. Fred might know science, Wesley might know demons, but _nobody _knew clothes and hair like she did.

'Then I'm being an individual' Spike declared, 'more in keeping with the persona anyway.'

'More lone-wanker than lone-wolf' Angel told him.

'At least I dress for_ me_ not other people' Spike retorted.

'I do _not_ dress for other people' Angel spat back.

'Yeah right' Cordelia responded before Spike could. 'Hey I guess the vision headache sans vision bought back some of the old Cordy with it too.'

'When did she _stop_ being a vicious bitch with a sharp tongue?' Spike asked nonplussed, a split second before what was left of Cordelia's glass of water went all over him.

'Next time it'll be Holy Water' Cordelia told him. 'And don't say what_ you_ were thinking of saying either' she told Angel giving him a glare.

'I take back what I said earlier' Spike said. 'Sometimes it's _not_ just the quiet inoffensive ones that are the most scary' he told Angel who nodded his agreement.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – June 2004**

Faith slowly eased herself into a chair that one of the other girls offered her and tried not to look in Wesley's direction. There was certainly an atmosphere but nobody expected otherwise, Wes had gone temporarily evil and had used magic to beat up Faith so they were being kinda awkward around each other, no biggy they'd get over it, weird shit like that going on was their lives most decided.

'Amanda and Rona's teams are in position ready to go with a few of the gunslayer chicks with each of them' Kennedy began. 'As soon as Berith turns up we can have a team there in minutes, they won't be taking notice of the traffic laws' she joked, 'with us covering this part of town ourselves with most of the firepower.'

'I can teleport to join which ever team needs me' Willow declared. 'If Berith is too much for me we'll play delaying tactics until the rest of you turn up.'

'I wish we knew what he looked like or how big he was going to be' one of the girls said. 'Ignorance ain't bliss' she complained.

'The bigger they are the harder they fall' Buffy declared.

'And the harder they hit you' Faith added wryly, showing everyone she still had her spark and was in the game despite being strapped up.

'Worst case scenario' Buffy continued, ignoring Faith. 'Willow softens him up with the magicks, Illyria and Glory play tag team to wear him out if he's as strong as we think he _could_ be, and then when he's nice and docile we introduce him to Plastic Fantastic, the scythe he can't screw with.'

'And the rest of us take care of _his_ backup' Kennedy added.

'I can help Willow with the softening up as long as someone is on-hand to tazer me if I look like I'm turning nasty' Wesley said. 'And please note I said to _Taser_ me' he continued, 'Faith's solution may have worked but I would have preferred something less traumatic' he told the group, starting off some laughter including from Faith herself who tried to keep her true thoughts and feelings very much to herself.

'Probably best you don't get involved' Willow advised him. 'We can both still feel it and I'm better at keeping it suppressed' she pointed out.

'Yes I realise I'm third rate compared to you' Wesley replied, 'in power _and _control.'

'Power-wise maybe second rate on a good day' Willow told him generously. It would be more accurate to say on a _bad_ one though.

'I'm wondering if all the psychic interference is deliberate' Wesley suggested. 'It knocked me almost completely out of the equation, I'm sure even Willow is off form because of it and if we _had_ decided to bring our semi-domesticated seer-vampire with us Drusilla would be catatonic and of very little use.'

'It is deleterious both to myself and Glory also' Illyria stated flatly. 'We are powerful enough to resist its influence' she said, 'but doing so does require concentration and hence reduces our combat effectiveness.'

'The power required to do this is _colossal_' Willow told them. 'I doubt Berith nor the Senior Partners have a fraction of the capacity to do this which would explain why they seem to have recruited the assistance of our old friend The First.'

'Are we sure about that?' Shannon asked.

'It's him' Glory responded. 'I spent more time in his presence than Illyria and she thinks so too, using the Hellmouth to boost the signal and help keep the door open between realities.'

'Most Demons who come to this realm are diminished, corrupted as you know' Illyria explained. 'Even I am a pale imitation of what I once was, Berith may not be anywhere near so weak.'

A knock at the door momentarily interrupted the conversation, everyone hoped it was the pizza finally arriving.

'The image of Illyria being weak compared with what we're going up against just fills me with happy joyful thoughts, I don't know about you ladies' Stephen noted sardonically, getting up to answer the door.

The young watcher opened the door and found himself looking at a guy maybe ten years older wearing what looked like military fatigues and with red hair, bright red that looked artificial in the same way Illyria's was blue. He was wearing dark glasses which he took off to reveal his eyes were red as well, crystalline red like shards of rubies that caught the light.

Stephen's jaw dropped and despite himself he stepped aside. 'So I hear you've been looking for me' the stranger told everyone stepping through. 'Decided to save you all the trouble' he continued. 'Time is money so the bean-counters back home tell me' he declared looking around. 'I love what you've done with the place' he said, looking around. 'Last time I was here properly the big thing everyone was talking about was bronze, but look at the technology these days' he said. 'Television, Computers, Jet Airliners' he listed, 'Plastic scythes' he added with a grin. 'I like that one, very inventive, but you always were a sneaky species that way' he told the humans. 'Don't look too shocked, I'm a seer remember' he told them. 'Difficult to catch me off-guard with tricks like that, I can see through those glyphs you like using too' he added. 'They're not up to my power-output.'

'It's an Old One' Illyria said in clear astonishment, looking him over, 'of my race.'

'Not exactly' the stranger told her. 'You'd be my peoples Neanderthals, not quite as advanced but pretty close' he said. 'We got the better colouration' he told her, that blue hair looked ridiculous he thought. 'Oh come on even you monkey descendents must have realised who I am by now surely?' he asked rhetorically, looking from face to face.

'Berith' Buffy responded, slowly reaching for the closes scythe.

'Got it in one' the Demon-God told her. 'You were maybe expecting someone taller?' he asked, a quizzical expression forming on his face as Buffy's hand slowly closed around her scythe handle.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_This Fanfic runs on reviews_


	29. Chapter 29

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – June 2004**

Berith had personally chosen his shell and it was certainly less of a pain in the ass than the one Illyria was wearing, it was relatively free from emotional baggage being currently single with both its parents dead and it wasn't overly skinny. On the other hand some of the memories it _did_ leave him saddled with were still nonetheless confusing although to an extent they did provide some truly great lines he decided as he watched Buffy tighten her grip around the handle of her weapon and tense for action.

'So' Berith began as he folded up his sunglasses and put them in a breast pocket, 'are you going to swing those scythes or whistle Dixie?' he asked completely deadpan, before breaking out into a grin. 'Sorry I couldn't help it he apologised before suddenly reaching out his left arm in a blur of speed and grabbing Stephen around the throat. 'I could snap his neck before even my cousin there could reach me' he said. 'Let's not make this unpleasant' he added as Stephen struggled in a futile attempt to break Berith's grip which was half-choking him.

'Let him go' Buffy ordered, getting up brandishing her scythe, others following suit albeit slowly and cautiously.

'I'm sorry, you seem to mistaken me for someone who takes slayers seriously' Berith replied with a smirk. 'I could take you all out before you could blink' he declared seriously.

'Not all' Illyria responded flatly, 'release the human' she commanded, taking a step towards the other Old One, morphing into her armour as she did.

'After giving it some thought… no' Berith responded, 'I _won't_ be doing that, but if you take one more step, or start to play with time, I might see what happens if I change the iron in his haemoglobin into something else, I bet it would suck to be him wouldn't you think?' he asked rhetorically. 'Same thing with you Glorificus, keep right where you are' he added, addressing the only other one present with the speed to be much of an immediate threat.

'What do you want?' Buffy asked coldly.

'World peace' Berith responded, 'no not really' he continued. 'Maybe a world in pieces…'

'Oh great just what we need,' Faith interrupted, resting her own scythe against her shoulder, '_another_ prehistoric demon that thinks they're funny' she added. 'You kill the boy and we'll _see_ how fast you are' she vowed.

'You'd _see_ a blur' Berith told her.

'Unless I warp time around _them_ too' Illyria pointed out.

Buffy smirked at Berith, Illyria had taken her on a ride like that before. 'If we're moving at the same speed then you're going to have trouble dodging all the weaponry in here' she said.

'_He'll_ still be dead' Berith noted, indicating Stephen.

'Want us to grease this prick D'Artagnon?' Faith asked.

Stephen gave a thumbs up

'That's what I thought' Faith said. 'Ball's back in your court asshole' she told Berith, 'Stevey-boy's the old fashioned type that would die for the cause and we'll cut you to pieces if he _does_' she promised. 'Slowly' she added darkly.

'Let him _go_' Kennedy practically growled.

'Willow can you take him?' Buffy asked.

'If I throw a fireball he's fast enough to dodge or use Stephen as a shield' Willow replied.

'Wouldn't need to do _either_' Berith responded smugly. 'You're out of your league witch' he told Willow, 'like the hair though' he added then sighed. 'You know you _might_ try asking why exactly I've turned up at your door and knocked instead of coming in all guns blazing' he suggested to the group.

'Cocky would be my guess' Buffy replied. 'Delusions of invincibility.' she continued, 'Or is it just egomania maybe?'

'A little of all three but that's a racial characteristic not the _specific_ reason' Berith told her. 'Oh come on you _can't_ be this dense.'

'Shit you're just a lackey of Wolfram Hart doing their dirty work' Faith offered.

Berith shook his head and looked into Illyria's eyes, his red meeting her blue. 'What do you think cuz?' he asked.

'He is no lackey' Illyria stated, 'my people would never kowtow to the likes of them' she declared. 'What is your purpose here?'

'I'll be honest, even though I know it's not my reputation' Berith replied. 'I_ have_ been doing their wet work for a few millennia now' he admitted, 'sorting out the shit they couldn't, they're not hands-on like our people' he told Illyria, 'no appreciation of violence, but sometimes you _do_ need to bust heads instead of fucking with them and that's when they call me in.'

'How could you allow such a situation to occur' Illyria demanded to know. 'Following the orders of our inferiors? You should be ashamed' she declared, 'I am ashamed _for_ you.'

'Well I can't say it fills me with joy but a god's got to earn a living' Berith replied with a shrug. 'I fell in with a bad crowd, ended up doing the occasional job for them and one day they told me it was sign on the dotted line and join up or they'd kill me.'

'_I_ would have sooner died' Illyria told him.

'No wonder your branch of the family tree vanished' Berith responded sardonically.

Wesley coughed. 'You're not defecting?' he asked. 'Thinking we can protect you?'

'Are you really screwing this moron?' Berith asked Illyria.

'They do not think in our terms' Illyria replied, 'they are naïve not stupid, well not _all_ of them anyway' she told him. 'He would not wish to be vassal or beholden to us either' she told Wesley.

'So whose side_ is_ he on?' Buffy wanted to know.

'Mine of course' Berith responded. 'I agreed to stop you but they showed a rare glimmer of stupidity themselves' he explained, 'because they gave me carte blanche on how to do it' he said. 'They thought I'd kill you, bring in my troops, have the streets of Cleveland run red with slayer blood but if I did _that_ then where would I be?' he asked rhetorically.

'Back to square one, hired thug for people you probably think are scum just like Illyria does' Buffy responded.

'Now you're getting it' Berith told her with a nod.

Illyria relaxed and crossed her arms. 'Your value to the Wolf, Ram and Hart, and hence your influence depends upon us existing as an enemy that they need you to counter' she said. 'You will merely seek to keep us in check indefinitely and therefore guarantee that they cannot _ever_ move against you.'

'Not just my influence, my _survival_' Berith told her. 'It was only a matter of time before they decided I was too dangerous to have around, just as they think the same of you' he told her. 'I couldn't match them, collectively they're too strong and with too many allies, but _now_ I'm untouchable.'

'Your loyalty is commendable' Wesley told him sarcastically.

'In our day betrayal was a word as neutral and unjudged as water' Illyria stated. 'They were foolish to trust you to do what was best for them not yourself' she told Berith.

'The evil one's are nearly as bad as the good one's for assuming others see the universe the way that they do' Berith replied.

'And like you're _not_ evil' Faith said with a snort.

'No he is not, we are beyond such labels' Illyria responded to her. 'I offer truce' she told Berith. 'Let the human go, he is starting to change colour and blue suits me better than him.'

Say's you, Berith thought. 'Offer it properly' he replied.

'How?' Illyria asked. 'Neither of us are so equipped in this form.'

Berith held out his free arm. 'Okay so we're missing the tentacles but this is close enough' he said.

Illyria held out her own arm and moved towards him again, they touched fingers and then slid their hands up against each other to clasp each others wrists at which point Berith released Stephen who half collapsed choking. Kennedy move to help him, keeping one eye on Berith and her scythe ready.

'What the fuck is _this_ shit?' Faith asked nonplussed.

'Our race had to be able to trust each other sometimes or we could never cooperate or even procreate, we would intertwine part of our bodies as a symbol of truce, it was something none would break or else _all_ would declare the transgressor an enemy' Illyria explained. 'It would not hold for other species of demons, they are vermin, but for us it is binding.'

'So can_ we_ kill him?' Kennedy asked, helping Stephen to a chair, he was coughing gently but seemed okay.

'If you move against him now I will defend him' Illyria told her. 'I would however only use sufficient force to disable not kill.'

'I haven't done this in a long time' Berith said. Even in the armour her wrists were unbelievably skinny he noted.

'Nor I even longer' Illyria replied. 'It was only your essence that came to this world' she said, 'you inhabit a shell as I do but yours feels different' she commented.

'Using magic to keep it stable' Berith explained. 'My clan was stronger in that than yours' he told her. 'I've got to ask does the smell get any better?' he queried, turning his head and sniffing the air with some distaste.

'No' Illyria replied, 'and you do not get used to it' she told him ruefully.

'I was afraid you'd say that' Berith replied glumly. '_You_ smell very good' he added.

'As do you' Illyria told him, even in the shell they maintained an element of their original odour which was why the vampires could tell Fred from Illyria.

'I don't _believe_ this shit' Faith declared, looking from one to the other.

A flash of light next to her caused everyone to blink. 'Neither do I' growled an exact duplicate of Buffy.

'Son-of-a-bitch' Buffy swore looking at her doppelganger.

'It is the First Evil' Illyria stated, half turning to face it.

'You backstabbing weasel' the First snarled at Berith, pointing a finger accusingly. 'I helped arrange all this crap, got my Harbingers to abduct the guy you wanted as a shell, helped bring your red ass here and instead of ripping their fucking heads off you're _bonding_' it said in aggrieved astonishment. 'Fucking _bonding_' it repeated.

Buffy swung her scythe around but it went right through the First. 'Damn' she said, 'thought it might have worked' she said sadly as the First turned and glared at her.

'Oh no I screwed over the First, guess I'm in real trouble now' Berith said sarcastically. 'The Wolf, Ram and Hart told me you screwed them in Sunnydale too and now I've screwed _all_ of you' he said. 'What are you going to do?' he asked. 'Pester me? Walk through me a few times? Read over my shoulder?'

'When my army comes forth and I become corporeal…' the First began.

'You'll find _me_, and _my_ Legions waiting for you' Berith interrupted. 'I come out ahead as long as_ nobody_ comes out ahead' he stated, 'I'm going to keep the cousin and her groupies in line, _and_ I'm going to keep you down too' he announced then paused. 'Shit! I'm a balance demon' he said, 'how the hell did that happen?' he asked rhetorically. 'The Powers-That-Be will be offering me the keys to the executive dimension' he moaned.

'I am _not_ a groupie' Buffy declared with an obvious pout. Illyria might be stronger and faster, maybe smarter, but the Old One wasn't the boss of _her_.

Wesley remembered a quote from Edmund Burke which Buffy had borrowed for one of her speeches, paraphrased it fitted the situation quite well he thought. 'All that's required for evil, or good, to triumph is for self serving amoral bastards to do nothing' he said looking at Berith who gave him an appreciative nod in return.

'This shit is getting _way_ too complicated' Faith commented. 'I thought we were getting a stand-up fight, not Smurfette's smart-ass relative with an agenda' she said.

'She's feisty' Berith told Illyria. 'I can see why your boyfriend there has the hots for her' he added.

'What?' Illyria responded quizzically.

'I'm a Seer' Berith reminded her. 'Scruffy there and the sassy one get together' he told her. 'He knocks her up too.'

Illyria smirked. 'Do not think I can be so easily misled as these creatures' she told him.

Berith leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes. 'Wesley and Faith, together, soon' he said slowly. 'Now am I lying?' he asked rhetorically as he released his grip on her wrist. 'Well this was fun' he said reaching into his pocket and putting his sunglasses back on, sowing discord was much less hassle than hitting people and fun in an entirely different way. 'It was nice to meet you all and I guess I'll see you in LA' he said, 'oh yeah, Pylea is a Covenant world, it's _mine_' he declared forcefully, 'you can't have it and I'm going to make sure you don't' he declared

The Lord of the Covenant stepped back from Illyria, his clothes morphing from the military fatigues into an expensive looking business suit and his hair to a more human looking shade of red. He gave an ironic salute then simply disappeared in a flash of light, unlike Illyria Berith _could_ apparently still teleport in human form which was more bad news as far as everyone was concerned.

'I'm going to see the Senior Partners' the First hissed and disappeared itself.

Illyria turned slowly to face Wesley and Faith, her expression initially unreadable.

'_Not_ the stand-up fight I was expecting' Faith said with a grimace as Illyria narrowed her eyes and glared at her.

**Wolfram and Hart Building – Los Angeles – June 2004 **

The receptionist didn't look up from her monitor as the man approached. 'You might want to notify Lilah Morgan that I'm here' he told her.

'Do you have an appointment?' the receptionist asked looking up.

'No but she'll see me' he told her.

'Not without an appointment I'm afraid' the receptionist told him. 'If you give me your name I'll contact her PA and see if it's possible' she told him professionally.

'Ba'al Berith, but you might find me in your rolodex under Covenant, Lord of the' the man told her, removing his sunglasses to reveal his crystalline red eyes. 'Unless you've got me indexed under "Gods" maybe' he added.

The entire lobby went totally silent as everyone froze to the spot and turned to face the visitor who had just walked through the front door like anyone else. The receptionist's jaw dropped before she had the good sense to avert her eyes. 'I'm sorry, oh God I'm so sorry…' be began to babble. 'Please don't kill me' she pleaded. 'I'll telephone Ms. Morgan directly' she told him.

'Not a problem' Berith told her. 'I don't look as awe inspiring at the moment as I do normally, even with the suit' he continued, and turned to look around the lobby. 'How are you all doing?' he asked, trying not to laugh. He had a sneaking suspicion that the shell he was wearing had been kind of an asshole and it was rubbing off but he was getting a kick out of the situation anyway.

One of the closer Wolfram and Hart employees sprinted over and dropped to his knees head bowed provoking several others to do likewise as the receptionist started to make the call trying not to let her voice tremble too much not to be understood.

'If I wanted you on your knees I'd have told you to get down there and I don't' Berith told the increasing number of supplicant lawyers and ancillary staff. 'Maybe you later' he added after a pause, addressing one of the female lawyers directly. He had the shells memories of several things he was planning to try out and she was a redhead which helped.

'Ms. Morgan is on her way down to greet you personally Sir' the receptionist told him, 'I mean My Lord' she corrected herself, 'Um… Your Worship?' she queried.

'Anything but Berry' the Old One told her. 'Make a note' he added. 'We're getting the Lobby re-done in Rouge de Rance Marble' he declared. 'Get off your damn knees and get back to work' he ordered sharply sending everyone scampering away in a hurry.

The elevator opened and Lilah Morgan stepped out trying to look cool, calm and collected, which she managed but felt anything but. 'My Lord Berith' she began, 'we weren't expecting you' she told him.

'Don't have any of your psychics boiled in oil on my account, they can't see what I'm about to do unless I let them' Berith replied, holding out his hand, which Lilah took not knowing if she was meant to shake it or kiss the gold ring he was wearing. Fortunately he shook hers which saved her from a very bad social faux-pas. 'If you'll excuse me in around five seconds I'm about to get verbally abused' he told her and turned towards the next elevator the doors of which slid open to reveal a livid Marcus Hamilton.

'You traitorous…' Hamilton began angrily, clamming up immediately when Berith held up a fist and looked at it meaningfully before directing a look his way. The conduit to the Senior Partners knew that the Old One could punch a hole through him as easily as could do so through a mere human, and he took a quick breath and forced himself to calm down before he said something that caused a result that the cleaning crew would regret having to mop up. 'The Senior Partners demand an explanation, an apology and that you immediately do the job you were sent here to do.'

'The explanation is self-evident, they can kiss my scarlet ass regarding the apology and as for their interpretation of the job, no' Berith replied then grinned. 'I've been wanting to say something like that for three thousand years' he added happily.

'What's going on?' Lilah demanded to know.

'Betrayal' Hamilton replied.

'Like the Scorpion it's in my nature' Berith responded. 'Just tell your bosses to suck it up and I'll take over the operation around here for them' he said. 'Do it right, just not _too_ right.'

'Not following' Lilah admitted, she was usually a couple of steps ahead and disliked being in the dark.

'Instead of killing Illyria and her allies Berith here decided to play his own game' Hamilton told her.

'And damn but didn't I make the right opening moves?' Berith responded smugly. 'Tell the Senior Partners I'll stop Illyria coming after them and remind them that if I'm not around I can't do that' he said. 'They'll bitch but it's a fait accompli.'

'You double-crossed the _Senior Partners_?' Lilah said to Berith aghast.

'Tell me you don't admire the hutzpa' Berith replied with a wink. 'That's right universe, The Lord of the Covenant is off the leash' he declared triumphantly. 'I'll take the penthouse apartment and find another office I'm taking yours' he told Lilah making sure to use a tone that meant it wasn't something she was going to argue with.

Berith addressed the receptionist again. 'That was Rouge de Rance Marble from Belgium for the lobby' he reminded her before turning back to grin at Hamilton. 'Cheer up' he said, 'they don't _always_ shoot the messenger' he told him. 'Oh and tell them I'm keeping Lilah here, she's the only other one in the organisation that's got any brains' he added.

My life was so much less complicated before I died, Lilah thought to herself.

**Warehouse District – Cleveland – June 2004**

'Illyria I know you're pissed, and grabbing people by the throat looks like it's a genetic thing, but could you _please_ put Faith back down now' Buffy requested of the Old One that was holding the other slayer off the ground looking like she was deciding whether or not to squeeze just a little bit harder.

'This is not your concern Buffy' Illyria replied coldly. 'This one seeks to steal my mate' she said as Faith tried in vain to break her grip.

'Yeah I get that and I might feel like slapping her around too in the circumstances' Buffy replied, 'but I can't let you kill her.'

'You would use a scythe upon me?' Illyria questioned.

'If I had to yes' Buffy told her.

'Go ahead, I would sooner not live than lose my Wesley' Illyria responded, surprised at her own words and the fact she meant it.

'Please Illyria don't do this' Wesley pleaded.

'You have already admitted feelings for this one' the Old One replied. 'Your betrayal make's your pleas meaningless.'

'I thought that was a word as neutral as water' Wesley replied.

Illyria paused for thought. 'Apparently not' she said eventually and continued to hold an increasingly flailing Faith off the ground one-handed.

Buffy turned her scythe over in her hands, she had already sent away almost everyone else in the hope that this domestic problem might be best dealt with in a more private situation but now she wished she had a dozen slayers on hand to subdue Illyria by force without having to actually hurt her, even Glory might have been handy to have around but the God-King had sent her away not wishing her slave to witness her humiliation. 'If you kill her do you think you'd keep him?' Buffy asked softly. 'If you really wanted to kill her she'd already be dead' she continued. '_Something_ is telling you it's not the right thing to do.'

'You use logic but it is like mere steel upon my flesh' Illyria responded.

'You're not exactly the _first_ girl this has happened to' Willow told her. She was trying to come up with a spell to put Illyria down if necessary but nothing she could think of was either quick or powerful enough.

'You cannot compare my situation with theirs' Illyria replied. 'They can get over the loss and despair in time, I cannot.'

'Illyria's attachment to me is intrinsic to the shell' Wesley explained, 'she _can't_ fall out of love with me, it's imprinted on her.'

'You know this and yet you would leave me for this one' Illyria replied, she actually looked like she was starting to cry. 'How could you treat me this way?' she asked. 'I have tried to be as good a girlfriend to you as I could be, tolerated your imperfections, annoying habits and bizarre behaviours' she said. 'Why would you hurt me like this? You said you loved me?' she asked starting to sob.

Wesley grimaced. 'I _do_ love you' he replied. 'It's just… it's just there's always something missing' he said. 'I can't relate to you, our perspectives are too different.'

'Bullshit' Illyria snapped back, her expression shifting from sorrow to fury in a split second. 'You merely lust for this one' she declared. 'Is it because her form is less slender than mine?' she asked.

Faith would have made a wisecrack if she could either breathe properly, or didn't think would result in getting her head ripped off, as it was she stopped trying to break free and hoped they could _talk_ the blue bitch out of killing her instead.

'If _that_ was an issue why would I have pined for Fred so long' Wesley replied evenly.

'Pheromones' Illyria suggested. 'I do not smell like a proper mate and this effects your response to me?'

Wesley blinked. 'Well how the bloody hell would I know that either way?' he asked reasonably. 'In any case my feelings for Faith just sneaked up on me' he said, honesty was the best policy with Illyria, her ability to see changes in body heat made a surprisingly effective lie detector. 'I didn't know she felt the same until earlier today it's not like we've been having an affair behind your back, for one thing I don't think we even _could_.'

Illyria muttered something in the old tongue under her breath and let go of Faith who dropped to the floor, and slumped into a chair taking several deep breaths. The slayer felt the desire to retaliate but a sense of self-preservation intervened. 'I will _not_ give up my Wesley' Illyria told her then paused. 'Berith said you will have a child together' she continued. 'Is a desire to procreate an issue?' she asked Wesley. 'I cannot bear your offspring so you seek one who can?'

'I've never put much thought into it' Wesley told her.

'Again consciously not perhaps' Illyria countered. 'I am too emotionally confused to think clearly and I may commit violence in the heat of the moment that I would regret later' she told him. 'I will see you at the Hyperion' she stated and raised her hand to open a portal vortex beside her which she stepped through before it vanished.

'Guess the rest of us get the plane back to LA' Willow said. 'Well not me obviously' she added. 'I'm going to the Hyperion, let them know the full story' she said and teleported away in a flash, she didn't think Wesley or Faith wanted her there anyway.

Five minutes later as Faith and Wesley _finally_ started to talk Buffy's cellphone went off with Xander on the other end of the line asking why Illyria had turned up at his trailer crying and wanting to see Anya.

All things considered it was a good thing Anya couldn't cast vengeance spells any more Buffy decided, because Illyria was bound to be imaginative as hell in that department.

* * *

**_Note from the author:_**

_This fanfic runs on reviews and I very much appreciate them. _

_The reason for the only once-a-week updates is because I've got two different fanfics on the go at the moment. If you're a fan of Stargate, and familiar with the X-COM computer game series, you might like XSGCOM: Mirror Image which is now up to chapter three._


	30. Chapter 30

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – June 2004**

Cordelia needless to say got in her response quicker than the ever laconic Angel who merely looked at Wesley like he had clearly lost what was left of his mind. 'You cheated on Illyria?' she said incredulously, '_Illyria_!' she repeated. 'With Faith?' she continued. '_Faith_?!'

Wesley frowned. 'That depends on what your definition of "cheated" is' he replied.

'Who are you?' Cordelia asked sarcastically, 'Bill Clinton?' she continued. 'Are we heading for "I did not have sexual relations with that psychotic slayer" or some shit like that?'

'Well I didn't' Wesley replied evenly. 'And before you ask your inevitable follow-up question yes I do regard getting a blow job as sex' he told her. 'I hadn't even _kissed_ Faith until the day Berith showed up' he added. 'And that wasn't exactly planned or anything, I'd just gone evil and assaulted her.'

'Jesus _Christ_ Wes' Cordelia blasphemed, 'she probably thought _that_ was foreplay.'

Wesley looked away, he had only just arrived back on a flight from Cleveland and he honestly didn't need this kind of interrogation but no sooner had he got through the door when Angel and Cordelia had collared him and dragged him to a room to find out his side of the story after hearing Willow's version already. 'Not unless she considers attempted rape a come-on' he said quietly.

'_What_?' Angel exclaimed, finally breaking his silence. Willow had left this part out considering it Faith and Wesley's business to tell people if they wanted.

'When the aura coming from the Hellmouth turned me evil I didn't just beat Faith up I was going to force myself on her' Wesley explained, guilt and more than a fair degree of self-loathing dripping from his words. 'She disabled me before I could' he continued. 'The way she did it broke the hold the power had over me and it was while I was lying there wanting to throw up, and not because of the _physical_ pain, that she kissed me' he said. 'I honestly had no idea she had feelings for me too' he told them.

Cordelia blinked. 'So let me get this straight' she said slowly. 'You tried to rape the woman who once_ tortured_ you and somehow this turned into _romance_' she queried. 'What the fuck is wrong with you?' she asked rhetorically, her voice starting to rise. 'You've already_ got_ a girl, okay not exactly a conventional relationship' she admitted, 'but compared to the fucked-up Jerry-Springer-on-acid bullshit of you and _Faith_ it's practically _wholesome_' she declared. 'Was dating a vengeance-fuelled sociopathic Demon-God not masochistic enough for your tastes?' she asked. 'Missed some of that old Lilah style twisted relationship crap did you?'

'I don't bloody _know_' Wesley replied honestly. 'My feelings about Faith just seemed to sneak up on me' he said. 'I didn't even fall _out_ of love with Illyria at the same time which makes it feel worse because I've hurt her so much and my guts are all twisted up, and I can't think straight… and I just want to stop thinking about it all and go kill something' he declared, Illyria had definitely rubbed off on him he realised.

Angel crossed his arms. 'Which brings us to what might be the most insane thing going on here' he said. 'What on Earth do you think Illyria is going to do?' he asked. 'She's not above killing _both_ of you because of the slight to her dignity, if nothing else, add in the woman scorned issue and she might kill you both _slowly_' he suggested.

'If she lost her cool and just _slapped_ you she might take your damn head off' Cordelia told Wesley. 'You can't cross someone that takes a grudge like she does' she continued. 'I can be a vicious bitch sometimes but she's at a whole other level.'

'Even if she had the self control not to kill _you_, Faith could be living on borrowed time' Angel interjected. 'From what Willow told us she was slightly surprised Illyria didn't rip Faith's spine out straight away.'

'A year ago I think she would have, if simply because she regards me as property Faith was trying to steal' Wesley replied. 'You might not think so, and she would _hate_ to think so, but Illyria _has_ developed emotionally, though of course she'd think of it as having further degenerated' he said. 'Which is not to say she's any less dangerous, in some ways she might be _less_ stable than she was and not in terms of the shell' he continued. 'Her Old One side can be violent and vicious but at a basic level it's more rational and calculating too' he told them. 'It's probably a good thing she is aware of this and left to go calm down because my guess is that the demon part is frankly the more reasonable in these circumstances' he suggested. 'Which is not to say that calm, calculating Illyria won't decide upon a course of action based on homicide' he added. 'As you can surmise I spent a great deal of time on the plane thinking about this.'

Cordelia looked to heaven, or rather the ceiling. 'So what do _we_ do about that?' she asked. 'If Illyria goes mental I mean.'

'We can't let her kill Wesley or Faith which is a problem because if she decides to that might be difficult to prevent' Angel replied evenly. 'Faith has her scythe but even with a weapon powerful enough to cause Illyria damage we still can't do anything about the time thing' he said. 'It's too much of an edge in combat.'

'The Mutari Generator' Wesley replied. 'It's the only thing we have that can stop Illyria but that has consequences all it's own because the only thing that keeps Glory in line, and now gives us a hope to match Berith I suppose, is a fully powered-up Old One' he noted.

'You do know the sensible course of action would be to end any relationship with Faith before it starts right?' Angel told him.

Cordelia nodded. 'I'm all for love' she said, 'assuming it is love and you're not just going though some late blooming adolescent crush or just lusting after the girl, but as your friend, even if Illyria wasn't an issue I'd be telling you right now… you _cannot get into a relationship with Faith_' she declared loudly. 'It's downright twisted, verging on _sick_' she told him. 'What's next? Are you going to track down that girl you used to keep chained in a closet and ask if she wants to go steady?' she asked sardonically. 'Ignoring the torture, attempted rape and all the other personal baggage, you're her watcher, if would be like Giles screwing Buffy' he stated.

'Another mental image I didn't need' Angel responded, 'thanks for that' he told Cordelia.

Wesley was going to respond that Faith wasn't _really_ his slayer and never had been but the problem was he didn't really believe it. Part of him had always thought of himself as Faith's watcher and always would. In that way even _he_ thought such a relationship with Faith was intrinsically wrong but deep down he wanted to be with here and based on his conversation with Faith it seemed that she wanted to be with him too though what the attraction was from _her_ perspective mystified him. 'I know it's wrong' he admitted, 'I know that being with Illyria is the best solution' he continued, 'bloody hell I even _want_ to be with Illyria' he told them, 'there's just something missing there' he said. 'I don't know if it's a soul or _what_ the hell it is but being with Illyria leaves a void I can't explain' he said. 'She said it could be pheromones, and maybe it _is_ something as stupid as that, but regardless that's how I feel.'

'At the risk of getting an "Eww" out of Cordelia but she might have a point about the pheromones' Angel responded. 'Illyria has a unique scent which you people might not pick up on but Spike, Connor and I do' he said. 'It's demony.'

'So he's risking death and dismemberment because Faith_ smells_ good to him' Cordelia responded. 'Christ I'll drag Smurfette to the perfume counter and we'll try them one at a time until you're satisfied' she told Wesley, rolling her eyes.

Wesley couldn't help but smile at Cordelia's delivery of the line, nobody else could put that much scorn and venom into a few words, only Lilah came close in his experience. 'Illyria's other suggestion was that subconsciously I might want children and she can't oblige' he said. 'It _is_ a very primal urge' he added.

'Adopt' Cordelia snapped back. 'I don't think breeding with Faith is a good idea anyhow' she continued, 'certainly not for the kids.'

'I don't know, all we'd need to do is for me to do the opposite of my father, her do the opposite of her mother and we'd make _fantastic parents_' Wesley replied, his smile widening slightly. 'Thinking of my father do you think he'd be more or _less_ happy if he found out I was screwing my slayer instead of a demon' he joked. 'I'd definitely need someone there with a video camera to record his expression when he found out' he said.

'Well it's a good thing you're not going to have to rely on your inheritance money for income anyway' Angel observed wryly, unable not to smile too.

'I don't know if you want my advice Wesley but you're going to get it anyway' Cordelia told him. 'Go back to Illyria, say you're sorry and give her flowers, or the spine of someone from Wolfram and Hart, whichever you think will work best, and never think of trying to have a relationship with Faith again' she told him. 'It'll bring heartache, or maybe a ripped out heart, if you don't' she advised.

'It's not just you that'll face the consequences of the wrong decision here Wes' Angel noted, 'or even just you, faith and Illyria' he continued. 'We'll _all_ be potentially effected by the fall-out from this I hope you realise that?'

'I know' Wesley affirmed.

'You know this is one of those time's where you being the guy that takes the hard decisions would come in handy' Angel told him. 'You know, the one's where you do the right thing regardless of what the consequences are to you.'

Wesley thought about Angel's words. 'Screw that' he said eventually. 'In any case from my perspective neither alternative seems overwhelmingly positive.'

Cordelia looked thoughtful. 'Have you considered the third option?' she asked.

'Suicide?' Wesley responded with a chuckle.

'Not that drastic' Cordelia told him. 'Dump Illyria, _don't_ take up with Faith and we'll find a nice sane human girl for you' she told him. 'Anne that runs the shelter is kinda cute' she suggested from the top of her head.

'I think Gunn has a thing for her already' Wesley replied. 'And wouldn't that just mean that two different women with a penchant for violence and a track record of homicide have a grudge against me?' he asked reasonably.

'Yes but then you wouldn't be forcing everybody to take sides between Illyria and Faith' Angel told him, playing along with Cordelia. '_Politically_ it's a better result.'

'No as decisions go that's _too_ hard' Wesley told them. 'My martyr complex must be slipping' he said apologetically.

Apparently he wasn't the only person having these kinds of conversations because later on Wesley came across Faith being confronted by Dana in the corridor. It took massive willpower not to break out into laughter at the expression on Faith's face when Dana advised her she knew that she herself was insane but that even _she_ wasn't crazy enough to try and steal _Illyria's_ boyfriend. _That_ was the kind of rank lunacy they gave you Electro-Convulsive-Therapy for back at the Mental Hospital Dana told Faith seriously.

Part of Wesley couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

**Wolfram and Hart Building – Los Angeles – June 2004**

Lilah couldn't help but be impressed by the effortless intimidation as Berith made his way slowly around the table speaking on the move, walking behind the ranks of the Circle of the Black Thorn with each of them visibly flinching as he passed them by. All it really needed extra was for him to be carrying a baseball bat and espousing on the benefits of teamwork.

'Let's face it, you all got lazy and sloppy over the years' Berith stated, 'and so did the entire Wolf, Ram and Hart organisation after all those centuries challenged by nothing but some aging Limey's, a teenage girl and the Powers That Be Impotent' he declared. 'All it took was for one of my people with a grudge, some imagination and the backing of a few slayers to bring the whole edifice to its knees' he said, shaking his finger chidingly, 'and I hope you're all ashamed of yourselves' he told them.

Izzerial fought back an urge to give the bastard a mouthful of invective, the idea that he would be lectured in this way, told off like a wayward human child was beyond insulting and it was only the realisation that the Lord of the Covenant was _trying_ to provoke them that stayed his tongue. 'One might wonder why _someone_ didn't see it all coming' he said instead.

Berith smiled, 'Okay fair point I'll give you that one' he responded. 'Perhaps I have lost some of my edge too' he admitted. 'It's been a very long time since I tangled with any being with the force of will, and the ability to screw over destiny as much as my erstwhile relative has managed since her arrival' he said. 'Of course if I hadn't been out of town she wouldn't have done this well' he added.

'It is not just the Old One' Cyvus Vail interjected. 'The Witch Willow Rosenberg is a mage not to be taken lightly.'

Berith stopped pacing and took his seat at the top of the table with Lilah to his right. 'Yes I heard on the grapevine that she kicked your ass' he responded. 'I've also met her since, only a couple of days ago just after I arrived back on this world as it happens and I can see why _you_ might be intimidated.'

'Our financial and personnel losses have been considerable in the last year' Ed the Leader of the Fell Brethren noted, others nodding their agreement. 'While Illyria and the slayers have grown ever stronger, with greater and greater numbers and an increasing arsenal of weapons we have inexorably lost ground' he said. 'Many of our own allies and associates have either fled this dimension, given up activities the opposition object to or in many cases they have been simply wiped out.'

'Which goes the core of the problem' Berith replied. 'Our side, or should I say _your_ side because as you are all no doubt aware, after the supposedly secret pre-meeting briefing from Hamilton which I was supposed not to know about, I'm on my _own_ side in this' he continued, 'is hopelessly split between back-stabbing competing factions' he stated, 'not of course that I'm in much of a position to criticise without being damn hypocritical' he said. '_They_ have a unity of purpose and a mission' Berith declared, 'you people would sell out anybody else in this room to save your own ass or to make a quick buck' he said. 'For shame' he said trying not to laugh. Yes there was no doubt about it, he decided, the shell had indeed been an asshole.

'So what are you going to do about it?' Vail asked.

'Well given that making you better people is beyond even my power the obvious solution is to make them worse ones' Berith replied. 'Or failing that I guess I'll just have to bust some heads myself because you've proved miserable failures at it.'

'Why not simply kill the slayers?' Ed asked. 'You have the ability to match a whole team of them.'

'I guess Hamilton left out some of the story' Berith replied. 'I don't _you_ to win either' he explained. 'Ripping the spines out of a few teenage girls would be a trip but it's not the best move for me' he continued. 'I'll level the playing field and counterbalance their Old One but beyond that I'm just here to spend a few millennia chilling out' he told them. 'I might take up a hobby' he said. The shell had liked playing tennis but Berith doubted his supersonic service game would make that enough of a challenge to be worthwhile, although thinking about it maybe if he could get some rackets enchanted maybe Illyria might be up for a match?

'I thought you Old One's were only interested in violence and conquest?' Izzerial commented.

'I went through that phase' Berith replied. 'Eventually you realise it's not worth all the effort, my goal now is survival, I plan to_ outlast _everything else in the universe.'

'Why?' Vail asked.

'Because it beats the shit out of the alternative' Berith told him with a grin. 'But don't go thinking I'm just all hedonism and self-preservation' he continued, 'you can take the Hellgod out of the Primordium but you can't take the Primordium out of the Hellgod' he told them. 'I'll still fight for what's mine and I'm sure as shit not a coward as any of you bastards that ever tries to cross me will find out' he promised.

'You would match your pitiful number of Legions against mine' Sebassis responded.

'In a heartbeat but not until after I flayed you alive and turned your skin into a battleflag' Berith told him his crystalline red eyes seeming to glow in anticipation at the prospect. 'I _am_ impressed by the fact you managed to get your troops to accept the sense of using human weaponry though, kudos for that but it was more the idea of Ms. Morgan here to be honest' he said. 'I'll be taking over operations on Pylea from now on and I'll be borrowing some of your forces as well as having my own portalled in.'

'The Wolf, Ram and Hart themselves ceded that world and its resources to my control' Sebassis retorted angrily.

'Despite what they thought it wasn't _theirs_ to hand over' Berith told him coldly, injecting some of the icy tones that Lilah had heard Illyria use into his inflection. 'If you want to fight over it I'll crush you first and _then_ deal with the slayers and their rebel friends' he told the Archduke.

Sebassis was about to say something else but a look of warning from Izzerial caught him just in time. Berith would have loved to make an example of one of the Circle, he just needed sufficient grounds to do so without provoking the Wolf, Ram and Hart to be forced to intervene. One problem with sitting on the fence playing both sides against the middle is the need to keep a steady balance, and for all his powers Berith couldn't fight _everybody_. 'We will discuss this later privately' the Archduke told the Lord of the Covenant. 'Perhaps suitable recompense might be found to make up for lost revenue and all the forces I have already sacrificed their in the name of the Circle and the Wolf, Ram and Hart' he said.

The sacrifice was only for his own benefit Berith knew but diplomacy and good sense dictated an Olive Branch was needed. 'I'm sure we can arrive at a fair arrangement' Berith responded with a nod. 'Now are there any specific issues that any of you would like to raise?' he asked, looking around. 'You'll find that under my leadership the organisation here on Earth will be _far_ more conducive to your interests and considerably less so for your enemies than it's been for the last year or so' he told them.

'There is the matter of both the collapse of the extremely profitable Orpheus Trade and the continuing random attacks by the Cyborg Ninja's that are disrupting several enterprises and damaging consumer confidence' Ed remarked.

Berith smiled. 'I'll deal personally' he told them. 'I find a hands-on approach is better than delegation sometimes, and besides which these hands can punch through armoured plate' he noted holding up a clenched fist. 'Cyborg Ninjas eh?' he queried. 'Cool' he added enthusiastically wondering if an Old One wielding nunchucks was overkill?

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – June 2004**

'I can honestly say that _this_ wasn't quite what I was looking for in an apocalypse' Giles remarked, looking around the room. They were meeting in the Dining Hall rather than the Briefing room because of the number of attendees and Andrew kept coming out of the kitchen bringing food figuring they were on his turf which made him the host in some fashion.

'I think we were all surprised by the lack of violence' Wesley replied. 'And by all I mean us, Wolfram and Hart and the First.'

'You've got to give it up to Berith' Faith declared. 'Dude knows how to make an entrance' she said.

Willow leaned back in her chair. 'As soon as Berith made his intentions clear I guess the First shut down the dark energies because Cleveland's dead as a doornail now on the psychic front' she said. 'The only trace left is what I can pick up from myself and Wes and that's fading.'

'What about Glory?' Buffy asked. 'She felt it too.'

'No traces left there, I suppose she's far too powerful for any residuals to stick to her' Willow replied 'I guess the same is true of Illyria but we haven't seen her since she portalled out of Cleveland so I can't be certain.'

'Doubt her mood is all that light but that's got nothing to do with Berith beyond the fact I hear he spilled the beans' Fred commented, giving Faith a clearly hostile look which she then re-directed at Wesley. In a very weird fashion she had started to think of Illyria as being like the twin sister strangers always assumed she was, only subconsciously at first perhaps, but gradually she had become aware of her familial feelings regarding her doppelganger.

'Can we steer clear of that particular topic please' Giles requested. 'Although it _does_ have an impact _beyond_ certain individuals personal lives it will nonetheless cloud the issue at hand' he said, 'which is how exactly we are going to respond to the threat Berith represents.'

'I don't know if we know enough about his intentions yet to know what to do' Wesley opined. 'I'm certain they'll be an element of divide and conquer in there, given that he's already given that a try, but otherwise his options are almost endless given that he likely has all of Illyria's strengths, _plus_ knowledge of the magicks and the ability to teleport.'

'And he's smart' Buffy added. 'I hate the smart ones' she said.

'One thing he's got as well is ego' Willow noted. 'From the second he knocked on the door that rang out loud and clear' she said. '_That's_ something we can use against him.'

'Or a scythe' Rona suggested, 'don't let's forget just hacking a chunk off him with a scythe' she reminded them.

'Way too fast' Buffy replied. 'You've sparred with Illyria like I have, even carrying a scythe I wouldn't want to fight her for real she's too strong and quick and she's got the moves too' she noted. 'And that's in_ real_ time' she pointed out. 'We've got to assume Berith is that good too and they can always cheat' she pointed out. 'I've been with Illyria when she's done the time thing, she bought me along for the ride' Buffy continued. 'Everything else looks like it's moving like maple syrup straight from the refrigerator, you can't fight that unless you're going the same speed yourself.'

'So that's what we do' Rona said. 'One of us with a scythe, the plastic one just in case, does the Matrix-thing with the Blue Meanie and we put Berith down.'

'Vail once put Illyria on her knees with a fireball and I can put at least as much power into one as he can, probably a lot more especially if I don't mind black roots for a few days' Willow told them. 'He's not unbeatable, just a lot less beatable than we'd like him to be.'

'Can we be sure of Smurfette?' Faith asked. 'They seemed to be getting on a bit too well for my liking.'

'And like _you're_ unbiased on the subject of Illyria' Cordelia said with a snort.

'Bite me Cor' Faith retorted. 'The First was on to something when he said they were bonding' she said. 'And he told her she smelled nice.'

'Pheromones?' Angel suggested giving Wesley a half smile.

'More the fact that apparently we smell awful by comparison I would think' Wesley said. 'Illyria _has_ told me in no uncertain terms before that to her we all stink so it's likely Berith would find us equally distasteful.'

'Maybe now that Blue's short one guy she might decide to shack up with one of her own' Spike said.

'The Old One's weren't known for that kind of relationship' Giles replied. 'It seems unlikely.'

'They're both partially human now' Willow pointed out. 'Illyria picked up plenty from her shell, I'll guess that Berith will do the same, we can't assume they'll behave the same way towards each other now that they would have in their original forms.'

'Other than liking Illyria's smell the closest thing I saw to attraction from Berith was directed towards _you_' Buffy told her friend.

Willow smiled. 'He liked my hair' she said touching it. 'I guess that's a racial holdover, Illyria is fond of the shade of her clan, Berith is probably the same way.'

'Of course' a familiar voice stated as Illyria walked into the room. 'I have asked My Wesley to dye his own hair blue but he always refused to do so.

Wesley jumped to his feet, Faith looked ready for fight or flight though neither would work too well against the skinny blue bitch 'Illyria I…' Wesley began.

'I do not wish to hear anything you have to say' Illyria told him and turned to face Faith. 'Wesley remains my Qwa'ha Xahn, my property and my Consort and you _can't_ have him' she stated. 'I have however thought the matter through and decided that I was being irrationally human in how I responded to his betrayal and that therefore I will not eviscerate you as I wish to do.'

'What the fuck do you mean I can't have him? Faith snapped back. 'You can't dictate who he…'

'Be quiet or I will render you unconscious' Illyria interrupted. 'Wesley it has come to my attention that you desire a companion of your own race' she told him. 'If you were to take a concubine I would allow it as long as they _know their place_' she growled, directing an icy cold crystalline glare at Faith.

Illyria turned around and started to head back out the door with an imperious air. Such an arrangement with Faith designated barely above slave status would save sufficient face to maintain her dignity and besides which as Anya had pointed out there was absolutely no way in hell that Wesley and Faith could possibly last any length of time given the fact that they were both more than slightly unhinged and had a personal history which was less than conducive to an ongoing relationship. In any case there was more at stake than that, much more.

'What the fuck was _that_?' Faith demanded to know.

'Did your woman just give you permission to screw another bird?' Spike asked Wesley incredulously, 'bleeding _publicly_?' he added nonplussed.

Illyria stopped in her tracks and turned around. 'We have determined that the Arthurian Legends and Stories are based around prophecies regarding myself and several others correct?' she asked. 'Willow is likely Merlin on that basis, Buffy not I retrieved the scythe rather than a sword from the stone and Faith now seems to be the Lancelot to Wesley's Guinevere' she said.

'Right I suppose so' Buffy agreed, confused by the change of subject.

'Arthur falls in battle, the Knights of the Round Table falter and the Kingdom collapses' Illyria said. 'I have no wish to see that occur so I am screwing with my own destiny as Fred would say. Arthur gives Guinevere free reign to have an open relationship with Lancelot, and therefore loses neither love nor a great Knight' she explained, 'I have therefore thwarted the prophecy and falsified the legends' she declared. 'My future is my own to determine and the Kingdom will _not_ fall to either its enemies or by internal collapse' she stated. The Shaper of Things is not bound by the predictions of lesser creatures and I will continue to play with the universe and not have it play with _me_.'

Illyria observed their stunned expressions with satisfaction. 'I will be in the training room sparring with Glory so that I am at the peak of my abilities when I bring Berith to heel' she said before turning towards the door once again and marching out.

After a long pause Buffy spoke up. 'Am I the only one that sometimes gets the urge to call out "God Save the King" when she says stuff like that?' she asked.

Faith shrugged. 'I'm still waiting to find out what the fuck a "concubine" is' she admitted.

* * *

**_Note from the Author:_**

_This fanfic runs on reviews... and what destiny did you **think** I was going to play with :-p_


	31. Chapter 31

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – June 2004**

Faith was sat on the edge of her bed waiting for Wesley when he came in after closed the door behind him. He sat next to her, not touching. 'Well this is awkward' he said eventually.

'No shit' Faith responded dryly.

'I'm afraid I really don't know where to proceed from here' Wesley admitted.

'Normally I'd be ripping your clothes off' Faith told him.

Wesley nodded. 'Well I can see how that might be an ice-breaker' he deadpanned, trying not to start laughing, she looked upset and might knock his teeth out if e did and besides which it wasn't that funny, it just felt that way because of all the bottled up feelings.

Faith turned her head to look into his eyes, Christ they were almost as blue as Illyria's only without the freaky crystal thing going on. She was willing to be the skinny bitch loved looking into them. 'You told me you loved me back in Cleveland' she said.

'Yes I did' Wesley agreed.

'It was bullshit wasn't it?' Faith asked.

Wesley frowned. 'Don't be ridiculous of course it wasn't' he told her. 'It just sneaked up on me so gradually I didn't notice' he told her. 'Until we kissed I thought I was merely starting to think of you as a close friend I could relate too better so that's why I valued your company so much and missed you when you weren't there.'

'I thought I just wanted to get inside your pants' Faith replied quietly. 'I get that with guys a lot' she admitted. 'Only difference is I gave a shit if you cared about me or not.'

'Alright I admit it, there was that too, the wanting to get into your pants thing I mean' Wesley told her with a smile, 'but I imagine you have that effect on most men.'

Faith looked at the floor. 'I don't want to be your fucking concubine' she stated flatly, having been told by an uncomfortable looking Giles what that was earlier.

Wesley resisted the urge to ask if there was such a thing as a _platonic_ concubine by definition and took her hand instead. For all the strength her skin was so soft and felt so much warmer than Illyria's. 'That was merely face-saving on her part you know' he told her. 'She could never bring herself to accept the concept of sharing me with anyone because that would imply some sort of equality existed between you and we really are lower-life forms as far as Illyria is concerned.'

Faith snorted and pulled her hand away from his. 'Oh yeah you _love_ the fucking idea of screwing both of us' she said angrily. 'I thought you were different.'

'Faith I'm not going to lie to you' Wesley replied, 'at a certain level, which is just below my abdomen for the most part' he joked, 'I can't _help_ but be bloody ecstatic at the idea of bedding two girls even if the fantasy is usually more concurrent than consecutive' he told her, 'but believe me if it was just about sex this situation wouldn't exist, unfortunately it's about love and that makes things far more complicated.'

'How?' Faith countered. 'You say you love me, I…' Faith paused, 'I _think_ I love you' she said. 'Dump the blue bitch and if she goes psycho again I'll stick my scythe up her anorexic blue ass' she told him.

Wesley sighed. 'I love Illyria too' he replied. 'I get to see a side of her the rest of you rarely do' he told her.

'What you're going to tell me she's all sweetness and light behind closed doors?' Faith retorted sarcastically.

'As a matter of fact she _can_ be quite sweet sometimes, she talks to me about things she wouldn't say to others but it's the fact she's so terribly insecure regarding _me_ that first made me fall for her' Wesley told her. 'It's nice to be needed, cared about an I needed to be needed that way.'

'_I_ need you' Faith replied. 'I can care about you' she continued, 'I'm…' she petered off.

'Insecure?' Wesley surmised. 'You don't need to know much psychology to realise that' he said. 'With me it's always been lack of self-belief that's held me back, seeking worth in the validation of others' he told her, 'you know I think I only reached my potential when I thought nobody cared and I decided I didn't give much of a crap anyway' he continued. 'It was quite liberating.'

Faith smiled faintly. 'When you came to the prison all bad-ass attitude and stubble I thought you'd seen the light' she said.

'More like the darkness' Wesley told her, mirroring her smile. 'I was empty inside as I'm sure you noticed.'

'Cutting on that junkie for information made me think so' Faith agreed. 'You frightened the shit out of me' she told him. 'You still do kinda' she admitted. 'I can't do the unemotional cold-blooded shit you can.'

'Well you're only vicious' Wesley told her, 'I'm clearly a sociopath' he said with a chuckle. 'I still had one piece of emotional baggage I needed to get rid of and Illyria was the reason I could.'

'Yeah?' Faith responded quizzically.

'My father' Wesley explained. 'I knew for absolute certain I loved Illyria when he badmouthed her and all the bloody holds he had over me vanished and I told him to get lost' he said. 'I love her, I really do.'

'How the fuck can you love _both_ of us?' Faith wanted to know.

'Well why the fuck _can't_ I?' Wesley snapped back. 'Monogamy isn't necessarily the natural human state of affairs, do you think cultures with polygyny or polyandry don't have love?' he asked rhetorically.

'Poly-what?' Faith queried.

'Polygyny is one man, two or more women, polyandry is the reverse' Wesley explained.

'So if I fell in love with another guy you wouldn't have a problem with me screwing him too?' Faith asked with a smirk.

Wesley considered that. 'Okay so apparently I'm a hypocritical bastard' he told her, 'but in my admittedly weak defence polyandry is rare as hell and always has been' he noted.

'I don't think I can share' Faith told him honestly.

'Then I hate to say it but perhaps Illyria loves me more than you do because she'd rather do that than lose me' Wesley replied. 'Or maybe that's what's she's hoping, that _you_ can't share so she gets all of me.'

'Sounds like you're _both_ trying to manipulate my ass' Faith retorted. 'I don't like this mind-game shit' she declared.

'Faith if I was going to play mind-games I wouldn't have been so blatant about it' Wesley told her. 'Look at it from my perspective, I love two women, they're both headstrong and could beat the hell out of me without trying, and they've both harboured the intention of killing the other over what is basically a dispute over yours-truly' he said, 'which is bloody flattering I'll admit but not exactly a welcome situation to be in since it leaves _me_ as the poor bastard stuck in the middle' he said. 'Cordelia suggested I break off relationships with both of you which I _would _do if it came to that, because I sure as buggery don't want either of you to _die_' he stated seriously, 'and if we're being brutally honest I can't exactly dismiss the prospect of either of you committing murder' he added flatly.

'Low blow Wes' Faith told him.

'Hey I admitted to being a sociopath earlier and my other girl is a_ mass_ murderer' Wesley replied. 'No need to take it personally' he told her, taking her hand again and bringing it up to kiss it sweetly.

Faith considered pulling it away again but didn't. 'If she calls me a fucking concubine again I'll put her on the floor if I have to break every bone in my hand to do it.'

'I'll let her know' Wesley told her.

Faith raised her free hand and ran it through her hair, she couldn't believe she was contemplating this shit, it was fucked-up and not remotely like that goofy daydream she had of being in a _normal_ relationship with a nice guy that wouldn't hurt her. 'I'll try and see if I can deal with it' she said, 'but if you start looking smug I'll hurt you' she told him. There now she'd said it. It wasn't going to work out, she knew that but she was damned if she'd give Illyria the fucking high-ground.

'I might have to learn to take the pain because you have no conception about just how jealous of me the other men in this building are going to be of me' Wesley replied seriously. 'I'm only human.'

Faith nodded. 'That could be a problem too because neither of your harem are' she pointed out, Giles had told her of that one and its association with being a concubine, 'and I expect you to perform mister and I reckon _she_ won't accept any less than what you're giving her now either.'

Wesley blinked. 'I'll be dead of exhaustion in a week' he said as he leaned over to kiss her, releasing her hand as she leaned back on the bed, the kiss deepening as he followed her. As deaths go he couldn't imagine a better way to go he decided as he tasted her, Illyria wasn't a bad kisser, and her skin didn't really feel like something that steel shattered upon should, but she was always a few degrees cooler in body temperature that he was and this felt more right somehow as the kiss became increasingly passionate.

'That asshole Berith said some shit about you knocking me up' she said breaking away from the kiss. 'If we're doing this, and we _are_' she told him sternly, 'you're putting something on' she informed him.

Wesley inwardly groaned, birth control wasn't something he had to think about with Illyria but unless Faith was going to go on the pill he had better get used to how things were before he had a girl that _couldn't_ get pregnant. 'I haven't got any' he told her.

'I picked some up at the airport' Faith told him. 'I was thinking about having my way with you on the flight back from Cleveland but you looked too damn guilty.'

'You should have suggested it' Wesley replied as Faith got off the bed and started rifling through the cabinet next to it. 'I wasn't feeling _that_ guilty' he added as she fished out a packet of condoms. 'Sociopath remember' he said with a grin.

'You're not a sociopath Wes' Faith told him, 'you're just a cold-blooded, ruthless bastard' she continued. 'Now take off those pants because you look good in them and I don't want to tear them off.'

Wesley pulled off his timberland boots first. 'Can I help you remove anything?' he asked hopefully. 'It's always seemed like unwrapping a present somehow.'

'Less talk, more removing clothes' Faith told him with a distinct edge to her voice now as she pulled her top over her head, '_this_ is cleavage' she told him pointing at her chest, after noting his reaction to the sight of the lacy black bra she had been wearing underneath her top. 'Yeah I know it's been a while since you've seen something like that but no need to stare, it's like perfectly normal' she told him trying to sound serious.

'I'll investigate thoroughly in a second' Wesley replied before falling off the bed whilst trying to take off his jeans. 'Little help' he requested from his undignified position on the floor.

Faith couldn't help but break out laughing. Not exactly the suave, sophisticated guy he was out in the field beating on demons and shit. Illyria wouldn't know any better but there's no way Lilah would have put up with this crap she decided. 'If you don't start acting less like a clumsy horny teenager you ain't getting any' she told him.

'Well stop looking like the girl of my sordid teenage fantasies then' Wesley replied, getting up under his own steam. 'If you think watcher trainees don't all have a thing for slayers you're terribly naive.'

'I fucking _knew_ it' Faith exclaimed. She was willing to bet D'Artagnan took a cold shower every night living with those Cleveland chicks.

'Well you're about to get certain proof and I'm going to the special hell dimension they reserve for watchers who screw their slayers' he told her.

'Illyria will bust you out' Faith replied as they fell onto the bed together still wrestling with a few stubborn items of clothing.

Smelling Faith on him later Illyria offered no reaction but headed for the roof where she cried for the best part of an hour. She only hoped she could adapt as she had to so much else that she hated.

**Chase River – Pylea – July 2004**

The Groosalug looked across the river, it was nearly a hundred and fifty yards across at this point and deep and swift-flowing enough to be a serious obstacle. There was a ford ten miles upstream which was already being fortified, as were the pair of bridges which constituted the only other ways to cross in this region, but other that those the river was a natural barrier and neatly split the land into two halves.

'We should cross immediately and press on towards the capital' a member of the Deathwok Clan insisted. He was wearing the recently invented insignia that designated a Captain in the Pylean Defence Forces and was amongst the first to be promoted to Company Commander after proving himself in the field and had been invited to join the Undefeated Champion and the aging human in conference on a rise that overlooked the river while others took rest nearby.

'We're already stretched to have any control of the ground we already occupy' Stirling responded as he looked over a map which had been unfolded over a flat dry patch of earth. 'This is the most defensible line we have, and would require the smallest number of troops to defend while we train additional forces' he told the PDF Officer.

The Deathwok scowled. For all their wondrous weaponry, and the indisputable effectiveness of their ways of making war, the humans were still overly cautious to his mind. 'We have won every major engagement, and practically every skirmish, since we took the field in force' he said. 'We have left thousand dead at our feet' he continued, 'we could sweep on and vanquish our enemies in no more than a matter of months' he insisted.

'We have no reserves' Stirling replied evenly. 'They already outnumber us considerably and are still able to call in dozens of legions from offworld if required' he noted. 'One thing we _cannot_ do, despite the superiority of our armament, is manage to be in two places at once' he said, trying not to sound superior as the demons reacted badly to hearing those tones from a human despite the PDF being racially integrated itself. 'If we overreach ourselves we risk both losing control of much of the land we already control and of putting our supply lines in severe jeopardy.'

'We have already discussed this Captain' the Groosalug told the Deathwok Officer. 'Glory in battle is wonderful but we should not seek it at the expense of losing the war' he said.

Stirling indicated his agreement with a nod. 'We still have two full companies ring-fenced for immediate deployment if they try to portal a force into our rear' he pointed out. 'Once we have the additional troops and logistical infrastructure in place we _can_ resume our advance, though only until we reach the point at which we become overstretched again which will be well short of the Capital' he said. 'Our cavalry units can continue to launch incursions into enemy territory across the coastal plains which will draw off forces from the main theatre, and I'm sure we can find plenty of volunteers for small scale commando raids over the river to harass _their_ supply lines, but in terms of taking and holding land_ this_ is the best choice for a defensive line' he declared indicating the river first on the map and then in reality before them with a sweep of his hand. Rivers were a pain the arse to deal with if you needed to cross in force that was why along with a load of other poor sods wearing Red Beret's he had ended up dropping into Arnhem in 1944. They needed to take the bridges that led into German held territory intact if they wanted to bring the war to a rapid conclusion. It hadn't worked but at least the Germany Army had left him with what was now a very valuable lesson in how to successfully defend a bloody bridge.

The Groosalug looked down at the map. 'We will erect watch towers on the hills overlooking the river with both the binoculars and night vision equipment our slayer allies have provided' he said. 'We will also do likewise on the hills and mountains far upstream from whence the river flows so that they cannot flank us from deep inland and use our cavalry scouts to watch the plains.'

Stirling pointed at the crossing points on the map. 'I'm going to place two thirds of the slayers and our mortar team on the ford here as that's the place they'll be most likely to attack given that they know we'll be wiring the bridges with demolition charges' he said. 'If I can borrow the two PDF platoons already there digging in to make up the numbers that should be enough to hold the position against the enemy even if they could in better than full Legion force' he said. 'I'll establish my Headquarters there too' he told them. 'Looking forward to the rest to be perfectly honest' he added, rubbing his back. He was getting far too old for marching, or even riding horses about even if he did mentally feel younger than he had in many years.

'What of the other slayers?' the Deathwok Captain queried.

Stirling grinned. 'A few will assist in PDF training as ever but as for the rest have you ever heard of the Long Range Desert Group?' he asked rhetorically. 'Well no of course you haven't, but back in my dimensions Second World War, that was the one I learned to soldier in sixty years back, my people found that small numbers of elite troops riding fast all-terrain vehicles were a recipe for mayhem if they operated behind enemy lines' he told them. 'We've not used the four-wheel drives we bought to Pylea since January because they just weren't suited to fighting in the forest and they were too easily tracked back to base, but now we've got secure lines to operate from I'm planning to send them across the coastal plains and into the enemy occupied farming country beyond with orders to create chaos for a few days, come back to re-fuel and re-arm and then go do it again.'

'How far inside the territory of Sebassis and his lackey Narwek will they range' the Groosalug asked.

'We could make it further but I'm going to limit them to know more than one hundred and fifty miles inside enemy lines' Stirling replied.

'That's far beyond the Capital' the Deathwok said in surprise. 'How swiftly do these wheeled machines of yours move?'

'On the plains, or half-decent roads, they can cover that in less than three hours' Stirling replied. 'They can actually do over eighty miles an hour flat out but I wouldn't advise it unless you're on the roads we have back home' he told him. 'It would rattle the teeth out of your head on the trails here if you got anywhere _near_ that speed.'

'Eighty Miles in an _hour_?' The Deathwok said incredulously.

'Whilst on Earth I once travelled on a flying machine that carried me to my destination at over _six-hundred_ miles an hour' the Groosalug told the Deathwok, 'and they have other machines built for war that are far swifter' he continued. 'As fast as the bullets from your rifle that can travel faster than sound itself and rain death on enemies hundreds or even thousands of miles away.'

'You surely jest' the Deathwok responded suspiciously. The bullets from his AK-47 moved too fast to see. 'If you have such machines why not bring them here to fight our enemies?' he asked.

'Governments take a dim view of private citizens owning that sort of thing' Stirling replied with a chuckle. 'Even the Americans don't take their right to bear arms quite to those extremes.'

'You could always hire mercenaries Sir' Ashton interjected, walking over to join them. 'During the Eritrean-Ethiopian War a few years back one side hired Russians flying SU-27's and the other had Ukrainians flying MiG-29's' he told them, 'some of them probably flew in the same squadrons back in the USSR days' he continued 'That's probably outside our budget though' he added with a grin before saluting. 'We've established secure radio communications with the GNF and they're going to start shifting supplies from there towards the lines as well as informing the refugees from this side of river it's considered safe to go home' he reported.

'Thank you Caporal-Chef' Stirling replied. 'What's your opinion?' he asked. 'Do we press on or dig in here?'

'If we had armour and artillery support I'd vote on going forward now' Ashton replied. 'Smash them before they get a chance to consolidate but with Infantry and a few Cavalry, _Horse_ Cavalry, we don't have the numbers Sir' he replied. 'We're getting more volunteers for the PDF all the time but unless we want to let our quality drop severely we need at least a couple of months to turn a farmer into a soldier and I'd be happier with twelve weeks training under their belts before we put them in the field' he said. 'It's not just the weaponry that's put us in the driving seat here it's the fact the PDF fight like proper soldiers, _Earth_ soldiers' he opined. 'It took me some time to get them used to the idea but they fight _smart_ as well as hard.'

The Grossalug put his hands behind his back in the fashion the humans called "Parade Rest". 'What is the situation as regards equipment?' he asked.

'As we issue some of the PDF grunts who are best suited to carrying a sniper-rifle or a light machine-gun with the SVD's and RPK's we're freeing up the rifles they were carrying' Ashton replied. 'But we'll need another five hundred AK's shipped in from Earth to equip those already in training let alone if we're thinking about continuing recruitment' he replied. 'The ammunition situation is better, thank God we don't train to use suppression fire or it wouldn't be, but in the next few weeks we want to be thinking about getting another shipment, maybe a half million rounds so we don't run the risk of running short.'

'That sounds like a great deal of bullets' the Groosalug stated.

'We can easily burn off a hundred thousand rounds in another large engagement' Ashton replied. 'We're going to be approaching a thousand troops in the field soon and hundreds more in training, half a million rounds is less than four hundred apiece, you should hear what the ammo expenditure is back home, when _both_ sides are shooting, and almost all the bullets are used to keep the other sides head down instead of blowing it off' he declared, one advantage of having an enemy only carrying swords and clubs, or often just their own claws, you could make your bullets count when they came at you.

'But what of the cost?' the Groosalug asked. 'We are in no position to pay for them' he pointed out. 'It would be dishonourable for us to continue to accept military aid without efforts to make recompense' he said.

'I agree' the Deathwork concurred. 'Slayers have fought and died for Pylea, we already owe you a debt and should not shame ourselves by accepting your charity forever.'

Stirling frowned. 'Not to put too fine a point on it' he began. 'But you don't really _have_ anything' he told the Pyleans. 'Most of your world's wealth, the state treasury for instance, is still in the hands of Narwek and Sebassis.'

'Land grants' Ashton interjected. 'The population here isn't that high, there's masses of unused real estate' he continued, 'if you want to pay offer land and mining rights and when you're the government pay them back for the weaponry that way' he suggested.

'You know you're worryingly bright for a non-com sometimes' Stirling responded with a wry smile.

'I keep it under wraps Sir' the mercenary replied. 'It bothers the Officers' he added. 'Seriously though I only got the idea because I was up on a hill overlooking a valley a couple of days back and I thought it would be a great place to retire and build a house, I'd accept the land as part payment on my contract.'

Stirling smiled. 'Roman Legionaries often retired on land they had won from the enemy too' he told him.

'Bet _they _didn't need to build damn great fences to keep out wandering Droken Beasts though' Ashton replied with a grin. 'Definitely going to have plenty of barbed wire imported' he told the Watcher.

The Groosalug looked to the Deathwok Captain. 'Offering land in fair trade for armaments would be acceptable to me, they have spent blood and coin for Pylea they have surely earned part of her in return.'

'I agree' the green skinned demon replied. 'We will then be dealing with our allies as equals, fair exchange not holding out the begging bowl' he said.

Stirling spoke up. 'I doubt my people will not accept your offer' he told them. Certainly the mining rights had been talked of before, 'but can I formally request one piece of land to be signed over first?' he asked.

'Surely' the Groosalug replied. 'What land do you wish?'

The Watcher straightened up, ignoring the continuing pain in his back. 'The clearing in the Great Northern Forest where our slayer dead are buried' he replied in the most official tone he could muster.

'_That_ land is yours already' the Groosalug replied. 'With the price paid who could argue otherwise?' he asked meaningfully.

Stirling turned and looked across the river. 'I hope we don't have to earn any more the same way' he said wistfully, as he looked into occupied territory. How much of Pylea was worth the life of a teenage girl anyway?

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – July 2004**

No it hadn't got any less tense and awkward in the last fortnight Wesley decided as he once again found himself sat between Illyria and Faith at breakfast with tension in the air that could be cut with a knife, the girl on one side carrying one and on the other a girl whose skin shattered them. His ribs hurt slightly too, from now on he was _definitely_ going to get his eyes into focus before saying good morning because calling Faith Illyria at seven AM when the alarm clock went off had been really painful.

Like so many things in life the theory was better than the practice he decided, one thing he _hadn't_ counted on was that not only would they both seek to drag him into arguments between them on their side, regardless of topic, but sometimes to his horror they ganged up on him like when he'd gone after that trio of vampires alone the day before and once Illyria found out _why_ Faith was yelling at "My Wesley" she joined in the lecturing.

One the other hand the practice was still damn good he decided when he caught a glimpse of the expression on Spikes face when both girls kissed him on the cheek. Now _there_ was a bloke with girl trouble Wesley decided, he only had two in his life, Spike had to deal with having Buffy, Drusilla and now Harmony on the premises, at least when the latter was working. Three of them and poor old Spike wasn't screwing _any_ of them.

Faith generously poked him hard in the side of the ribs she hadn't already damaged when she noticed the smug, self-satisfied expression Wes was directing at Spike. They were going to have to cure him of that, it was annoying the other guys. She'd have a quiet word with Illyria after breakfast, Faith decided, it having already become clear that if they _both _cajoled him he folded almost immediately on any issue.

Sharing still felt wrong, and Illyria treated her as an inferior which Faith knew wasn't personal in so much as she treated _everyone _that way, but it still annoyed the crap out of her nonetheless and Faith got to experience it more often now, but despite it all Faith was happy. She had even been compelled to thank Illyria for training Wes up nicely in the sack because weirdly saying _that_ sort of thing to her didn't bother the girl in the slightest, Illyria was _always_ pleased to be told she had successfully achieved an objective, _any _objective, she was goal orientated that way as well as kinda inhuman given the subject matter.

'Can I ask a favour?' Illyria requested looking past Wesley towards Faith.

'What?' Faith replied.

'I realise you continue to expect me to tear out your spine at some point' Illyria stated. 'And the possibility still exists' she admitted, 'but if I promise not to do so at mealtimes would you please not carry your scythe to the dining table as its proximity ruins my enjoyment of my breakfast' she said, indicating her plate of chorizo and eggs.

Faith looked at the scythe resting beside her. 'Does that truce thing you did with Berith hold for people too?' she asked.

'If I offer it to be yes' Illyria replied.

Faith reached out her arm in front of Wesley and Illyria touched hands with her and they both ran their hands up the others forearms before taking hold. 'Okay no more scythe at meals' Faith agreed.

'My girls agreeing _not_ to attempt to kill each other three times every day' Wesley said, feigning to wipe away a tear. 'It's so sweet.'

'Wesley you're being a smart-ass' Illyria told him. 'It is not one of your more appealing personality traits' she stated.

'She's right on both counts' Faith agreed.

If I got a _third_ girl, two of them might gang up on the other and leave me alone Wesley theorised for a second before remembering practice never worked out exactly how you hoped. 'I'll try and work on that' he told them.

'Good boy' they told him almost simultaneously, Illyria patting him on the head with her free hand.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_You've got to pity poor Wesley right? No, me neither :-p_

_This fanfic runs on reviews_


	32. Chapter 32

_Everything either belongs to Joss or it should, no infringement is intended and no profit is to be made. When you get right down to it I'm not really worth suing anyway unless you want a share of an underpaid civil servants wages and it just wouldn't be worth the hassle trust me._

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

**Wolfram and Hart Building – Rome – July 2004**

Despite the excessive flamboyance Ilona Costa Bianchi was tougher, more disciplined and a whole lot more calculating than the casual observer would assume from her appearance and manner. The habitual low cut dress that showed off her impressive cleavage always put men at a distinct psychological disadvantage, at least the straight ones anyway, and her constant gesturing with her hands, over-the-top even by Italian standards helped her to ensure she was underestimated. Rivals often assumed she had slept her way to the top, and to be honest when she started out she was willing to give some head to get ahead as the Americans would say, but you don't become the CEO of a Wolfram and Hart Regional Office just because of that, you need talent in the boardroom not the bedroom to reach those heights.

Unfortunately the black clad cyborgs seemed unimpressed by both her looks and her position as the closest stepped over the body of what had been her last surviving security guard.

'What do you want?' she asked in Italian, backing away as she released the safety catch on the Berretta Automatic she had retrieved from one of the other fallen guards. The intruders had butchered their way through the building in a matter of minutes, heading for her office, undoubtedly wanting her to open the vault saving them the trouble of blowing off the door as they had that of the LA Offices in December the previous year.

The closest cyborg, there were at least six of them on the executive floor now, began twirling a long metal chain with one hand whilst pointing towards the direction of the vault with the other.

'Then fuck you' Ilona said, and spat defiantly.

One of the other cyborgs slid a vicious looking serrated edged knife from a sheaf on his belt. They were more than happy to cut on the woman to get her to cooperate.

Ilona grinned and raised the pistol, but not towards them instead placing the barrel against the side of her own head. 'I'll die first' she said, cocking the hammer.

The cyborg with the knife seemed to look her up and down through his opaque full-faced metallic visor. Ilona got the distinct impression it was about to check if she was bluffing, she wasn't and she hoped that the Wolf, Ram and Hart kept a special, relatively pleasant hell dimension open for employees who entered the afterlife via an act of serous loyalty because she was about to find out she though as she started to squeeze the trigger.

Before the Beretta could fire however the cyborg with the knife soon had another issue to deal with of a more pressing nature, to be precise it became more that slightly fixated by the fist that had slammed through its back and was now holding its powercell in a bloody grip which protruded through the front of its torso.

The gore soaked hand released the unit, letting the powercell fall to the floor with a hefty thump and the cyborg slumped forward freeing itself from the arm that had impaled it as the other hybrid man-machine spun and prepared to attack.

The man stood behind the corpse of the cyborg which was now draining blood and hydraulic fluid into a pool on the floor winked at Ilona. 'Nice dress' he told her in English. 'Would have been here a few minutes ago but the wards on the building stopped me teleporting straight in and then I had to force open the security doors because the silent alarm locked down the building' he explained.

'My Lord Berith' Ilona responded in the same language. Every office throughout the world knew that the Lord of the Covenant was in this dimension, besides which who else had eyes like sparkling red crystal.

The Old One nodded. 'So have you guys heard of me too?' he asked the cyborgs quizzically.

Two of them started spinning their chains, the metal whistling through the air faster and faster as they moved to position themselves. Suddenly in perfect unison they simultaneously whipped the steel links towards the redhaired newcomer.

Berith caught both chains easily. 'I guess not' he said and yanked hard on the chains ripping them from the cyborgs hands despite their own enhanced strength. He smirked and let the chains drop. 'Come on' he said. 'You've _got_ to have more than that' he challenged.

The cyborgs formed into a semi-circle, they did not know what they were facing but had done battle with demonic creatures with enhanced strength before and had always emerged victorious.

The Lord of the Covenant could have easily altered the passage of time, or else overwhelmed them with his almost unmatched physical strength but it didn't feel like an occasion for gimmicks or brute force, sometimes you've got to have some fun and besides which he was still trying to get to grips with being a two-armed biped. Berith reached behind him and unhooked something from his belt bringing out the two hefty wooden sticks and letting one fall to hang freely from the chain that linked them. It wasn't a traditional weapon of his people but the shell had liked Chinese Martial Arts films and starting out slowly, Berith gradually increased the speed he was spinning the nunchucks and smiled because he knew it looked cool. 'Yeah I was sure I was going to like being back in this dimension' he stated happily as the cyborgs moved to attack.

They attacked as one, it wasn't very sporting, they could have at least come at him one or two at a time like in the movies Berith thought to himself as he bought the nunchucks around hard at head height, the far end was moving at barely subsonic speed and only the fact that both chain and wood was enchanted was holding the things together as the weapon smashed one cyborg aside, shattering its visor and sending it spinning away before impacting with a second shattering its skull despite titanium reinforcement.

A third cyborg drew a katana and in the same fluid motion stepped forward like a master swordsman and bought it slicing towards Berith's free arm, the cyborgs speed was very impressive, barely sub-slayer the Old One decided, and their reaction times even faster than the legendary demon hunters. There were no sluggish nerve impulses at work here, wires woven through their bodies into place of their original nervous systems transmitted impulses to their limbs at the speed of light, and they moved smoothly and economically as well as fast as greased lightning.

Of course all the speed in the world isn't much help when your weapon shatters on impact as the long curved sword did, breaking into two large pieces and a tiny shower of steel shards. It wasn't even enchanted like one of the short-swords the slayers carried, not that one of them would have cut the Old One's flesh either, but at least it would have likely remained intact after contact, goddamn third-raters getting involved in things that were well out of their league Berith decided as he took advantage of the cyborgs surprise, they were still partially human underneath, and smashed a fist through its visor and on into its brain.

The remainder fell in quick succession as Berith willed his own reaction times faster to match theirs and abandoning his nunchuks parried sharpened steel and spinning hooked chains with his own inviolable flesh.

As the ancient demon in human form ripped off the head of the last cyborg he cast it aside nonchalantly. Ilona had been watching in increasingly awed silence as Berith effortlessly dispatched the intruders that had so effortlessly themselves slaughtered the buildings security personnel, both human and demon. 'Sorry about the carpets' Berith apologised, 'blood and brains just won't wash out' he told her ruefully. 'Found that out last week when I had to make an example of one of the LA Staff' he told her. The company rules didn't have any particular problem with Eli from accounting sacrificing virgins for fun but Bob the department head had already told him about not doing it on company time and one warning about slacking was all you got. Berith liked to be a hands-on boss, which sometimes meant sticking yours hands into the skulls and entrails of wayward employees, so he liked to handle that sort of thing personally.

'I was thinking about remodelling anyway' Ilona told him. 'If you would like to get washed up I could direct you to the executive washroom while I call in the cleaners to deal with this mess' she told him. 'These cyborgs, they are turning up everywhere' she said. 'I spit on them and will mention them no more' she promised, spitting on the closest of their bodies.

Berith reached down and tore the shirt off one of the dead security guards, using it to wipe himself halfway clean. 'So I hear they do good pasta in this town?' he asked, wiping cerebral fluid off his fist. 'I don't need to be back in LA for a few hours maybe you could recommend a nice restaurant?' he asked. It had been a busy day, only three hours earlier he had been beating the ever-loving crap out of a team of slayers who were trying to break up an Orpheus deal. Between that and this intervention the Circle of the Black Thorn were going to be a great deal more cooperative he thought, not to mention even more deferential he was hoping.

'I will take you to the finest in Rome' Ilona declared. 'Wolfram and Hart always have a private table ready just in case we need to entertain important visitors' she told him, noting that he was quite blatantly talking to her cleavage not her.

'Excellent' Berith replied. Damn she filled out that dress well he thought, before wondering for the umpteenth time if he should have chosen a different shell because this one had landed him with all sorts of socially unacceptable habits which he kept falling into. Ogling human females was bad enough but his playing grab-ass with his vampire PA was becoming a habit, not that the latter had ever objected because she was either too scared of him or maybe too ambitious, but it was just so damn demeaning regardless of the lack of complaints. Maybe Illyria inadvertently lucked out with the barely stable watcher after all he wondered as he washed up, making a vow not to screw the Italian chick even if the possibility came up, it was a test of willpower and if he couldn't overcome his shells asshole personality he was going to have to turn in his membership of the deity club.

Dinner was pretty good though he had to admit, and he bought some zuccotto back with him when he teleported back to LA, Tamika was more than surprised when the Old One deposited the plate of brandy-soaked chilled dessert on her desk and told her to take a break, ignore the telephone for a few minutes, and enjoy it.

Mixing in some blood for extra flavour Tamika savoured both the zuccotto and the looks she was getting from everyone else who walked past. Yep, it had taken her going on six years but she was now firmly ensconced on the best desk in the building and the new boss liked her enough to bring her random tasty treats. She was _so_ going to lord it over Lilah Morgan's secretary at lunch tomorrow she decided, taking another bite.

**Sewers – Cleveland – July 2004**

Stephen pulled the night-vision goggles down over his eyes and then leaned slowly around the bend in the sewer to take a look before leaning back to face Shannon. 'Bringers' he said, his voice barely above a whisper though the noise they were making as they seemed to be tunnelling into the side of the sewer shouldn't make that necessary. 'I fucking _hate_ Bringers' he declared, a feral grin developing on his face as he slowly began to unsheathe his short-sword. He much preferred a weapon with more reach but the narrow confines of even this main-line sewer didn't suit anything longer, you couldn't swing the damn thing anyway.

'Yeah we know' Shannon replied, looking around. 'Are you sure?' she asked quietly. Kennedy was patrolling another part of town and as the second most senior Cleveland Slayer she was in charge of the group.

'It's either Harbingers of the First Evil or the Catholic Church has a lot of Monks with an unhealthy interest in human waste' Stephen replied, lifting the goggles back onto his forehead. 'I knew we'd find the bastards eventually' he said.

'You should let us handle this' Jackie told the young watcher.

'No sodding fear' Stephen replied, starting to psyche himself up. They could just shoot the buggers down but that wasn't good enough, he wanted to feel the cold steel slide into their guts through his sword hand.

'He means no way' Shannon explained to the other girls, you started to pick up his strange British expressions after a while. Unlike the newer girls she also knew more of the back story and had been with him when they fought the things back in Sunnydale. Bringers had slaughtered his friends at the Watcher Academy, it was probably them that planted the bomb that blew up the Council and his father too and it was _definitely_ them that had hunted him and the watcher girls down afterwards. Basically D'Artagnon had some serious Harbinger of Evil Issues, he wasn't like this with other opponents, not even vampires, but he was clearly relishing the notion of hacking the things to tiny pieces, it simply wasn't healthy.

On the other hand if he was in a good mood he was a lot more likely to let her borrow his sports car, so Shannon decided not to say anything as she took a stun grenade from her jacket pocket. The flash of light wouldn't disorientate them, but the sound of the thing going off in the sewer sure as hell would.

'Pitch it up so it lands on the pipes to the left' Stephen told her. 'Otherwise you'll just get a truly revolting splash' he reminded her. 'And all of you try not to get cut, you might catch something nasty down here even if slayers _are_ tough as hell.'

'What about you?' Jackie asked.

'Try not to cut _me_ either' Stephen replied.

'I meant _them_ cutting you' Jackie told him.

Stephen spun the short-sword in his hand, rolling his wrist. 'Please' he responded dismissively.

'If he gets killed I'm not explaining to Kennedy' Jackie told Shannon ignoring his posturing.

'We'll hide the body and say he went back to England' one of the others suggested. Kennedy was pretty strict at the best of times and even if she wasn't apparently fond of the guy, which she was as they had developed quite a strong friendship, there was no way she was the type to forgive any of her girls losing a perfectly good watcher, especially when they remained so scarce.

'Good plan' Shannon agreed sliding her own night-vision goggles down, it wasn't pitch black but they certainly helped a lot. 'Get ready' she told everyone, 'fingers in ears, eyes closed' she ordered pulling the pin on the grenade before leaning out and underarm pitching the grenade towards the bringers before turning away closing her own eyes and hurriedly putting her hands over her own ears, this was going to be _loud_.

The sound when the grenade went off echoed for miles down the sewer system of Cleveland and could be heard in the street above, it also had the desired effect on the Bringers who were still disorientated and reeling when Stephen thrust the tip of the sword into the guts of the closest and bought it ripping upwards, tearing both cloak and the flesh underneath. It had been longer than he would have liked since he'd last had sex but he was still sure that was better, in fact it wasn't even a close second, but he still enjoyed eviscerating the thing more than he knew was healthy.

The only saving grace was at least he still had a long way to go to reach the younger Wyndham-Pryce's level of insanity, and he wasn't screwing any of his slayers in direct violation of Watcher Rules and Protocol either so his job should be safe. You had to give it to Wesley, the man had thoughtfully lowered the bar for everyone.

The other Bringers were all cut down barely seconds later as Stephen began wiping the blood from his sword onto the cloak of the one he had killed. 'So after we clear up and get washed and changed who wants to grab a burger?' he asked. 'I'll pay' he offered generously.

The fact that so many said yes demonstrated they were all becoming extremely hardened to violence, as well as used to hanging out in sewers. I'm doing an excellent job, Stephen thought happily to himself as the girls started arguing over whether they wanted MacDonalds or Burger King while they hacked the dead Harbingers into more manageable chunks and stuffed them into black plastic bags for easier transport.

'We should really come back and check what they looking for' Shannon noted, indicating their opponents curtailed tunnelling efforts.

'Good idea' Stephen replied. 'Ground Penetrating Radar' he suggested. 'We'll see if we can borrow one of those things they look for archaeological ruins or bodies with.'

'Beats digging' Shannon agreed. 'Hey we could use it to scope out graveyards too' she said. 'Look down into the freshly dug ones looking for movement, give the vamps a nasty surprise when they climb out.'

'We'll put together a business case and email it to Buffy, see if she'll approve the expenditure to buy one' Stephen told her.

'Better copy in Anya' Shannon advised him as she stuffed an arm into a plastic bag. 'These things smell terrible' she noted with distaste, 'and we've been wading through sewage.'

'According to Illyria they don't taste very good either' Stephen remarked.

'I don't want to know how she knows that' Jackie stated with a grimace.

**Hyperion Hotel – Los Angeles – July 2004**

'Angel Investigations' Harmony said brightly, holding the telephone receiver to her ear. 'We help the helpless' she added, tacking on the company motto.

'Wrong telephone' Diana told her.

Harmony looked down at the reception desk, yes once more she had given the wrong introduction for the line she had answered. 'Oopsy' she said. 'Slayer Council, Los Angeles Office' she tried again.

Diana rolled her eyes and went back to typing up a report. She may have gotten a lot more used to working with a vampire than she would have ever imagined since Harmony started, but she did wonder if the couldn't have found a less ditzy member of the undead to recruit.

'I could finish typing that up for you' Harmony offered once she finished her telephone conversation. It was only the team which had been sent to Orlando reporting in with a routine update and hadn't been all that important.

'I can manage very well thank you' Diana told her.

'But I can type like _at least_ twice as fast as you' Harmony pointed out.

Diana sighed. 'I am fully aware that your vampiric speed gives you supernatural keyboarding skills but I am producing this for Mr Wyndham-Pryce and I would rather make sure it was spelled correctly in British English as he requested' she explained.

'Oh right' Harmony replied, she knew that the Brits spelled English funny and that Diana had originally worked for Wesley back in 2002 when he had been running his own agency. Cordelia had mentioned that because of that she still largely regarded _him_ as being her employer rather than either the AI or Council organisations.

Angel stepped out of his office holding a file. 'Thanks for finishing off the paperwork' he told Diana.

'Ms. Kendall, did that Mr Angel' Diana replied, 'you should direct your thanks to her' she continued, not looking up from her screen.

'I stayed late to finish it Bossy' Harmony told Angel. 'And I picked up your Dry-Cleaning' she added with a wining smile.

Angel looked at the fifty page document he had in his hands. 'You did it?' he asked nonplussed. 'Um well thanks Harmony' he told her, it really was a quality piece of professional work. Angel hadn't actually believed Illyria when she told him that the blond vampire had been a very good secretary to him in the original timeline and it never ceased to amaze him when something like this happened to prove her correct. Harmony prepared a first rate mug of pigs blood with just the right amount of Otter too he thought, it had to be better than the ones Dawn made up for Spike he decided, only guys with undeveloped palates liked Vole in there too.

'You're welcome' Harmony told him. 'Can I ask a favour though?' she requested.

Angel nodded, if she wanted a few hours off or something to claim back the time for working late that seemed fair. 'What?' he asked.

'Can you ask Buffy to tell the slayers to stop making staking gestures when they walk past me' Harmony asked. 'It's bad enough I'm in a building full of them but they don't need to be mean' she told him with a pout.

Angel frowned. 'I've got a meeting with the Senior Staff scheduled later today' he replied. 'I'll mention it to her then' he promised. Harmony was a soulless vampire but there wasn't any reason to be cruel, if nothing else she hadn't ever been good enough at being evil to necessarily warrant it. Being mean to Harmony was like torturing a puppy which was always trying to make friends with you, he thought. Vampires often kept much of the personality traits of their human days and in her case she had only ever wanted to belong, be that to Cordelia's select little highschool clique, a cult-like vampire pyramid scheme or now perversely a group whose mission statement involved turning people like her to dust.

'Thank you Mr Angel Sir' Harmony told him happily. Her smile was short-lived however as she turned to glare at Drusilla who had just swept down the curving staircase. Drusilla sneered back, her own expression changing to anger when Harmony smirked and held up her bare forearm. Despite the lack of a soul Harmony didn't have to wear one of those metal control bracelets like they had stuck on the Seer vampire and she loved rubbing it in. The only problem was whenever Dorkus, as Harmony called her, was around you were guaranteed that the _other_ crazy one would follow. 'Eep' Harmony cried out in alarm as Dana popped out from seemingly nowhere causing Drusilla to hiss in response and bare her teeth, though only the human ones because if she vamped out Dana was liable to pounce.

Dana bared her own teeth back at Drusilla in return, before growling at Harmony. 'Can you get her to stop doing that?' Harmony asked Angel.

'No she does it to me sometimes too' Angel replied honestly with a shrug, 'and Spike' he added. There was something very primitive about Dana sometimes, primal and dangerous. Buffy had theorised that because of her psychological problems a slayer dream of the first ever slayer had become too imprinted on her and she henceforth channelled the girl to a degree. Certainly she seemed to have more than a few deceased slayer memories stuck up there, in sparring she often shifted techniques randomly, Spike even claimed to have seen traces of Nikki Wood's fighting style in there sometimes and wondered aloud if she might pull a Buffy move one day too.

'They should put her on a leash' Harmony opined, a shudder going down her spine. What could possibly be worse than a certifiably psychotic slayer, she wondered?

'Chain her to a wall' Drusilla agreed, she liked chains and had daydreamed of bringing the nasty vicious Dana-beast to heel.

'Try it' Dana told her. 'Watching _both_ of you' she declared looking from Drusilla to Harmony as she pointed at her eyes with the index and forefingers of her right hand.

'Couldn't you get one of those bracelet things put on _her_ too?' Harmony asked Angel. 'Make it like a special lunatic issue thing?' she suggested. 'If she goes like… harmocidal…' she said, proud of the new word she had just invented, 'I could give her fifty-thousand volts.'

Angel pondered the suggestion. 'Faith would never allow it' he said eventually. Pity because it was a damn good idea too he thought ruefully. He was sorry for Dana, it wasn't her fault she was like this, but she still bothered him immensely. He often worried if it was his inner demon, the little Angelus voice at the back of his subconscious reacting to her.

'Dana we've got training now' a young girl called down from the balcony. It was Jessica Angel thought but it could have been her twin instead, they _sounded _a hell of a lot alike sometimes too. The different hairstyles was the best identifier and from this angle he couldn't see her.

'Coming' Dana called back. 'See you later' she told the vampires. 'Don't expect to see _me_ though' she added coldly as she wandered off.

'If she spikes my blood with Holy Water or something one day' Harmony said quietly 'Please tell me she'll get in trouble for it' she asked Angel.

'I'm sure Buffy would give her a _very_ stern talking to' Angel replied.

Harmony pouted again. 'I know I only started a few weeks ago but I want a raise' she told him.

'Sounds fair' Angel agreed.

**Vahla ha'nesh – Location Inexplicable – Date Irrelevant**

'So we're sure Berry-Boy can't listen in right?' Faith asked, looking around. Due to a total lack of seating otherwise most were stood around or else like Faith herself sprawled over the wide flight of stone steps that led to the imposing sacrificial altar that dominated the East Wing of the Temple.

Illyria nodded. 'None can enter Vahla ha'nesh without my assistance and no seer can witness what transpires here from outside' she told them confidently.

'Even a Seer that's related to you?' Dawn checked. She was sat on the step directly in front of Connor who had his arms around her, it looked sweet but if he moved his hand any closer to her breast Buffy was going to thump him she had already decided.

'Berith's people are only a sub-species of my race' Illyria replied. 'We are not of one blood and even another Old One of my own kin could not penetrate this pocket dimension where we now reside' she told them. 'We can talk freely here' she told everyone.

'Good because the idea that the fucker might be getting visions of everything we said and did was creeping me out' Faith declared. 'We need a plan to deal with him before we lose another team.'

'None of them were actually killed' Wesley pointed out.

'No it was a warning' Giles agreed, 'a rather effective one given the lack of fatalities.'

Buffy nodded, leaning back against a stone column that must have been six feet thick. 'Teleport in, beat the girls senseless then afterwards go around and break all their right arms, except for Marnie' she added. 'Girl is a south-paw so he broke her left.'

'Tell the girls they're not even dangerous enough to him to be worth killing' Angel observed.

'Next time he will kill one of the team' Illyria stated. 'It is what I would do.'

'He's telling us to back the fuck off' Faith said, nodding her agreement, 'he'll keep raising the stakes until we do.'

Willow was sat with her legs folded underneath her. 'We shouldn't have any field team without a scythe' she said. 'At least that would give him pause for thought.'

'It would, but only the arrival of you, Glory or myself at the scene of battle would truly concern him' Illyria responded. 'A slayer scythe is a dangerous weapon to even the mightiest demonic creature but even the most skilled slayer is orders of magnitude too slow to confront him in combat.'

'Unless you bring one of us along for the ride' Buffy noted. 'Next time he shows up you portal me or Faith to the scene, make sure we're close enough to stay inside the timewarp you set up and then we'll show him who he's messing with.'

'At which point he teleports away' Willow responded. 'Illyria can't open a portal fast enough to keep up' she noted. 'There's a time-delay.'

'Okay but at least if he runs we've got the initiative' Connor said. He was a great believer in being the one that made the running, he wasn't one of life's cerebral counter-punchers.

'Until the shell destabilises and I cannot portal any longer' Illyria noted. 'Teleportation is far less energy intensive so Berith can do so far more frequently without risking his own shell.'

'And we don't know how effective he is at using the magicks to hold himself together either' Willow noted.

'How about zapping him with the gun thing you did Glory with?' Spike suggested. 'Suck all the mojo out of the bloke then kick his ass.'

'The Mutari Generator has to be specifically tuned to the subjects frequency or it would take too long to work' Fred responded. 'Berith is _not_ going to stay still while one of us "zaps" him' she said. 'That's why it's no use as a field weapon' she explained. 'It worked on Glory because we had spent months analysing her power signature.'

'Isn't Berith's like Illyria's here though?' Angel inquired.

'It would be similar though not identical' Illyria replied. 'Berith can move out of the path of the beam _very_ quickly.'

Buffy snapped her fingers. 'Giles do you remember that spell you used on Willow in the Magic-Shop?' she asked. 'The one that was like a glowing hula-hoop that almost paralysed her completely and left her floating in the air' she continued. 'Use _that_ to hold him still long enough to use the power-vacuum thingy' she said. 'Or just scythe the guy once he's stationary.'

'That was borrowed power Buffy' Giles reminded her.

'I can do it' Willow declared. 'I mean if the Coven that taught it to Giles can teach me, and I don't mind getting close to the edge I think I can do it' she said. 'I might need him distracted though' she added.

'Easy way to test it anyway' Spike said. 'Try it out on Blue here first and see how long it takes her to bust out.'

'Try it out on _Glory_ first' Wesley responded. 'Experiment on the god we _don't_ mind getting hurt, _before_ the one we do.'

'Sorry to interrupt this little discussion from the non-visiony people' Cordelia said speaking up for the first time, 'but just because he can't hear us talking _now _doesn't mean he won't see it coming when it does' she reminded them.

'Crap' Buffy responded glumly. 'Good point.'

'If we do all the work and testing here and never so much as mention any of it back in the real world we might maintain some of the element of surprise' Angel suggested. 'As far as we know Berith just sees sight and sound visions right?' he asked rhetorically. 'He doesn't read our minds so if we don't do anything out there there's a lot less chance he'll have a vision telling him what's going on.'

Willow grinned. 'I can also do work here in secret to try and improve how effective the glyphs are at blocking Seers' she said. 'He can see through the one's we already have but if I can produce ones with more stealthy goodness…'

'We might be able to catch the bastard on the hop' Giles said, finishing her sentence.

'Glyph up the Mutari whatsit and the plastic scythe so he doesn't see them even if he _does_ have a vision you mean' Buffy said. 'Hey this is starting to sound like a plan.'

'Well it's better than what we had when we arrived anyway' Wesley noted.

'That was bugger-all' Spike reminded him.

'Like I said, it's better than what we had when we arrived' Wesley replied with a smile, 'I never quantified it beyond that' he added wryly.

'Well in the absence of any other suggestions I vote we…' Giles began before he was interrupted by a crack of thunder and the smell of ozone in the air.

'Portal' Fred yelled, pointing towards a spinning vortex that had opened up horizontally in mid air near the bottom of the steps.

'Impossible' Illyria stated. 'None can come here but me' she said.

'Guess you were wrong there Blue' Spike responded.

'Berith, got to be' Angel stated.

'_It can not be_' Illyria declared.

'Heads up' Buffy ordered as everyone scattered and got ready to fight.

A figure fell from the portal and landed in a catlike manner, as it straightened up the portal closed above and they saw it wasn't Berith, or at least not unless he had undergone the minor-deity form of gender realignment because it looked like a young woman although the hair colour matched that of the Lord of the Covenant, a bright unnatural red.

The newcomer was carrying a large holdall and seemed to have an almost comically oversized handgun strapped to her right leg and a broadsword strapped to her back. She turned and directed crystalline blue eyes at Illyria. 'Hello mother' she said in expressionless frigid tones.

The girl shifted her gaze and now rested it on Faith and Wesley, her straight shoulder-length hair shifted from bright red to a slightly wavy chestnut brown and she closed her eyes opening them again to reveal they were almost the same colour. 'Hey Mom, Dad' she greeted them warmly, with a smile and a little wave. 'My place is a mess and I need to crash somewhere for a while, just until I've finished renovating' she told them. 'I've got money for rent, have you built my old room yet?' she asked hopefully.

THE END.

* * *

_**Note from the Author:**_

_The story continues, even more epic in scale in **Compelled to Play the Great Game**. _

_Best wishes to all my readers._


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